Dark Horse
by Yakaji
Summary: Watch the national tournament from the other side of the court! Dark Horse chronicles the championship from a new perspective. Be careful, this story has new characters and real tennis. Now with Chapter 7: Hirohito and Tetsuya take the court.
1. Tournament Prelude

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Welcome to **Dark Horse**, my first attempt at writing a fanfiction. Just to give you some idea of what you're getting into, I'm planning for this project to be 26 chapters when finished. That means it'll probably clock in at about 200,000 words when I'm done. As for the story itself, it revolves around a team of original characters who attend Hida Junior High School in Gifu Prefecture. Yes, dreaded OCs. Since I wanted to write a story about tennis, in line with Prince of Tennis itself, this seemed the most reasonable way to present something new and original. These characters are actually based on students I teach at the school where I work in Japan, personality-wise, but they all happen to look a lot like manga characters anyway. Oh, and one last thing. Full names are all given in Western order (given name first, family name second) although some characters will be referred to by their first, some by their last, and some by nicknames, just like they are in the regular Prince of Tennis series.

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**Dark Horse**

_Chapter1 – Tournament Prelude_

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Seiichi Kamishimizu reclined his seat in the tour bus, closing his eyes against the morning sun. The too-happy voice of the bus hostess came crackling through a speaker overhead. "We are now entering Tokyo. We should arrive at our destination in about thirty minutes." Out the window to his right, the sound of a Honda zipping past the bus drowned anything else the hostess might have said. 

Seiichi hated bus trips. Traveling from Hida City to Tokyo was a five-hour ordeal. Worse, the bus had departed at 6:30 am. The scenery would probably have been nice that first hour, as the bus wound its way out of the Japanese Alps, but Seiichi had been too busy trying to sleep to care.

The only upside to the bus ride were the other passengers. If Seiichi had to share a bus with someone, he was glad it was Hida Junior High's tennis club. He'd known most of the people on this bus for at least a year and a half, some a lot longer.

Seiichi had always liked tennis. His father Kentaro coached the tennis club for Hida Takayama High School. From the first day Seiichi could swing a racket, his father had taught him the game. He'd practiced all through elementary school, and Seiichi had joined the Hida Junior High tennis club on the same day he enrolled.

He never really expected the club to be _good_, though.

Hida City was hardly a city at all. With around 50,000 people, it could only support three junior high schools. But somehow, Hida Junior High had found a group of gifted players to round out its tennis team for the last two years.

No one had expected Hida to win the Gifu prefectural competition. Hida Junior High hadn't even made it to the semifinals the year before. But not only had Hida won, they hadn't lost a set in the whole tournament. For the first time in the school's history, Hida Junior High sent a team to the regional tennis championships.

The Tokai regional competition in Nagoya had been harder. Nagoya had some very strong schools, schools that appeared regularly in the national tournament. And Hida was still the outsider, the little school from nowhere. They had gotten a bye through to the second round since they were Gifu's prefectural champions, but their opponents in the second round of Tokai, Meito Junior High, had been projected to sweep them in straight sets. Hida's Doubles Two had dropped, but in a much closer match than most of the observers expected. And Doubles One had crushed Meito's pair in record time for the Tokai tournament.

When Daisaku Yamaguchi, Hida's Singles Three, won his set 6-2, the spectators at Tokai began to take Hida seriously for the first time. And when Kazuki Sunama took the Singles Two set without dropping a game, moving Hida into the third round, even the teams favored to win at Tokai started to pay attention. Still, Seiichi had been a little disappointed. With Sunama earning Hida's third win against Meito, the round had ended. Seiichi never even had the chance to play.

The third round and the quarterfinals went the same way: Hida only lost one set in each. If Daisaku hadn't sprained his ankle in the quarters, forcing him to retire from the match, even Sunama might not have had the chance to play that time.

Tokai's semifinals were a little more interesting. Shizuoka Daifuzoku, champions from their prefecture, had watched the Hida team sail through the quarters and decided the best way to deal with them was to frontload their schedule. Shidai bumped their Doubles One to Doubles Two, pushed two strong singles players into the Doubles One slot, and put their team captain as Singles Three. It wasn't an uncommon tactic, especially when faced with an unstudied team in a late-round match. Shidai was banking on the sheer strength of their top players to win through against the weaker players in the Hida schedule. The strategy nearly worked, too. Hida's Doubles Two fell easily, and despite his best efforts, Daisaku never managed to take a game from the Shidai captain. But Hida's Doubles One was too much for Shidai to handle, and the Shizuoka champions had dropped that set 3-6.

The problem with frontloading your schedule in a tournament is that, if you don't win in the first three sets, you're fighting an uphill battle through the last two. And Shidai never saw a chance to retake the high ground. Sunama dropped their Singles Two without raising a sweat. For Seiichi, it was the first time he'd had the chance to play at Tokai. The set against Shidai wasn't as much fun as it would have been if he'd faced a stronger opponent, and it was over far too quickly for him to feel satisfied, but at least it gave Seiichi a chance to warm up his arm before the finals.

Getting past the semifinal match guaranteed that Hida would play in the national tournament. Tokai was allowed to send its top three teams to nationals each year, so beating Shidai gave Hida a guaranteed trip to Tokyo. The team had celebrated afterward, in the short space before the final matches. Having a seat at nationals eased the pressure somewhat. Winning the Tokai tournament would be nice, but even if they lost, Hida would still continue playing this year.

Tokai's championship match had been a good fight. Hida had faced Nagoya's AIT Daifuzoku. AIT had been Tokai's runner-up the previous year, and had sent a team to the national tennis tournament for an amazing eight years running. AIT had been heavily favored to win the Tokai tournament, and for Seiichi it was easy to see why. AIT's Doubles Two dropped Kurari and Iwasa, Hida's own pair, in straight games. Doubles One, the Ito twins, had lost 5-7; it was the only time Seiichi had ever seen Hirohito and Tetsuya fail to take their set.

Everyone in the tennis club, everyone but the regulars, had resigned themselves to a second-place finish by the time Daisaku stepped out for the Singles Three match. But Daisaku had shown himself to be a better player than anyone expected. His serves were perfect through the entire match, and he managed to convert a breakpoint opportunity to win the set 6-4.

Sunama had approached his match with the same unnatural cool he always showed. He served the first game, but the AIT player fought his way to deuce and then managed to break Sunama for a 1-0 lead. Sunama had pressed on, not even showing a reaction to the break. Six games in, with the count at 4-2 in AIT's favor, it became clear to everyone why Sunama seemed so calm. The AIT singles player was sprinting around the court, fighting for every point, and growing noticeably slower with each ball. Sunama, calm as ever, looked the same as when he had stepped on the court. In short order, Sunama won his own match 6-4. He took the last game on his serve alone – the AIT player hadn't had enough energy left to return the ball properly.

All of which meant that it was up to Seiichi to win or lose the championship. And, of course, that meant he was probably facing the best player AIT could field. Considering the previous sets, that was no small claim. There had been some nervousness, facing that sort of pressure, but Seiichi did his best to squash it as he checked his racket and took his place on the court.

…And after that, he didn't remember much. Seiichi knew he had been very impressed with his opponent's speed and power. But there was more to tennis than speed and power. And there were two holes in the AIT player's game: his rising backhand and his serve. Neither hole was particularly large, but together they were sufficient. Seiichi's opponent could hit a rising backhand well enough to clear the net, but it lacked the power of his other shots and left Seiichi open for an easy winner. And the AIT player could serve competently, just not with the strength to keep up with Seiichi. The match had been close, a 7-5 victory for Seiichi in the end. But he had kept back his best techniques. Whether or not they won the Tokai championship, Hida already had a seat at nationals. And the more surprises he had left for Tokyo, the better his, and Hida's, chances of doing well.

Again, the voice of the bus hostess crackled through the speakers, bringing Seiichi back to the present. "We are now arriving at the Palace Hotel. Will everyone please begin to gather your belongings?"

Stretching his arms over his head, Seiichi gave one last yawn. He glanced at the seat beside him and saw that Daisaku was still soundly asleep. Narrowing his eyes, Seiichi elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey! What?" Daisaku woke with a start and tried to squirm away from Seiichi. "What was that for? I was sleeping, you know!" As if that weren't obvious.

Seiichi rolled his eyes and made a show of sounding exasperated. "We're _here_, Daisaku."

"Here? Whaddaya…" Daisaku scrubbed a hand through his short bleach-blond hair, making it even more unruly than usual. Obviously, Seiichi thought, he still wasn't quite awake. Well, that could be fun in its own right.

"In _Tokyo_? Or did you forget we were going to Tokyo? There's a tennis tournament, you know. I think they might even let you play. Now hurry and let me out. You're holding everyone up."

The glazed look in Daisaku's dark brown eyes told Seiichi he had been right. "Toky… Tenni… Hey…."

Always press the advantage. "Hurry up, you lump! Some of us want to get to our hotel rooms!" Just for good measure, Seiichi swatted Daisaku on the head.

"Okay, okay already! I'm moving. You don't have to hit me!" Daisaku snatched his duffle bag from the floor in front of him and started hurrying down the aisle of the bus. He got about three steps before he realized the bus was still moving. Spinning around, he fixed a baleful glare on Seiichi and strode back down the aisle, murderous intent plain on his face. Unfortunately for Daisaku, the bus chose that moment to make a rather sharp turn into the Palace Hotel parking lot. Daisaku lost his footing and tumbled into the seat in front of Seiichi, landing on Yuya Kawakami and Shouta Iwasa, Hida's Doubles Two, who were both still sleeping themselves.

If anyone in Hida's tennis club could sleep more soundly than Daisaku, it was Iwasa, but the shock of having a well-muscled former kendo player land in his lap brought him back to consciousness in a heartbeat. His head twitched, frizzy brown hair swaying, as he came awake. Iwasa didn't waste any time readjusting to his surroundings, though. Seeing Daisaku lying across his legs, Iwasa reacted the same way as he always reacted to an unexpected situation. He did the first thing that came to mind.

In this case, that meant he started punching Daisaku to within an inch of his life.

Yuya Kawakami (everyone just called him Kurari) wasn't quite so violent about being woken up, but he did have a mean streak to him. Glancing at Iwasa and the pummeling being visited on Daisaku's unprotected back; Kurari gave a little shrug and began pounding away himself.

Daisaku roared in pain, trying to fight his way out of the beating. "Stop it! Stop it! Get off me, already. Ouch! That _hurts_, Kurari!"

Between the yelps from Daisaku, Seiichi could make out Iwasa's voice as well. "You get off, ya little… was dreamin', and it was really… yea, I _hope_ it hurts!"

Seiichi couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing.

The commotion had attracted everyone else's attention as well: Seiichi wasn't the only one laughing. But the man striding down the aisle from the front of the bus did not look amused. Ando-sensei was short and thin, and still young for a teacher at thirty-two, but he had the sort of presence that commanded respect. He walked up to the brawl, but instead of intervening, he just barked three names. "Iwasa! Kawakami! Yamaguchi!" Almost as an afterthought, his eyes rose over the seat backs to rest on Seiichi. "And you too, Kamishimizu. I know you had something to do with this. I want you four on the courts an extra hour tonight, practicing. If you have this much energy to burn before the tournament, I'd rather you did something useful with it."

Daisaku struggled back to his feet with all the dignity he could muster, which wasn't much. All four of them hung their heads as they reluctantly gave a chorused, "Yes, Sensei."

As Ando-sensei returned to the front of the bus, Daisaku slipped back into his seat. "I'm going to kill you for that, Seiichi. I'm going to fricking kill you. I'm going to wait until you're asleep, and then I'm going to tie you up, and there are going to be knives, really big knives, and…." A perverse glee lit Daisaku's face as his mind raced to think of all the horrible things he could do.

Seiichi felt the bus come to a stop. Over Daisaku's shoulder, he saw the other members of the tennis club begin filing past with their bags. "Um, Daisaku…. They're…. Everyone…. Leaving…." Daisaku did not want to let him get in another word.

"Oh no, I'm not falling for that again, you rat. I'm sitting right here until this bus stops and Ando-sensei tells me to get off. And then I'm going to string you to the back of the bus, and I'm going to watch it drive off dragging you behind it, and I'm going to wave like this." Daisaku held up his right hand and twitched his fingers at Seiichi, a truly villainous grin spreading across his face. "And there are going to be knives. Did I mention the knives? And… Oh, what is it, Ando-sensei?"

Ando-sensei was tapping a finger on Daisaku's shoulder, his face a mask of barely-controlled impatience. "Are you _done_, Yamaguchi? I'd like to check into our hotel rooms today."

Daisaku turned back to Seiichi with a look that said somehow this, too, was his fault. He grabbed his bag, again, stepped into the aisle, and made a short bow to Ando-sensei. Ando turned to leave and Seiichi reached down to get his own bag. But Daisaku refused to give up. In a whispered voice, he promised, "Knives, Seiichi. There're gonna be _knives_." Then he turned and hurried off the bus, Seiichi following close behind him.

Outside, the tennis club was circled around Ando-sensei, who was holding a sheaf of papers. He was reviewing the schedule in a loud voice.

"The tournament starts tomorrow at 8:00 am. Because we won at Tokai, we get another bye. We won't have to play until the second round. But that doesn't mean you all can slack off. I want each of you watching the other teams, getting a feel for what we're up against." He flipped to a page with a tree-chart mapping the tournament lineup.

"Our first match will be with Osaka Tennoji Junior High, or with Rokkaku Junior High from Chiba. Hirohito, I want you and Tetsuya watching that match. I want to know everything we can about whichever team wins that series.

"Sunama, I want you watching the Rikkai match. They've won the national championship for the last two years, and if we make it to the semifinals, we'll probably run into them there. They'll be playing… Oh. They'll be playing Shizuoka Daifuzoku. You already know their play style from Tokai, Sunama, so see if you can use that to work out any more information about Rikkai.

"We beat AIT at Tokai too, and I think they'll be looking to return the favor, so I want Kamishimizu and Yamaguchi watching them. They'll be playing the Host Prefecture seat… Hyotei Gakuen. Kanto already has their best six teams here and Hyotei wasn't among them this year, so I'd say AIT is a safe bet for that match. But I want to know if they have any new shots, if they changed their lineup, if anything is different from what we saw at Tokai.

"And on our side of the bracket, that just leaves… Kyoto's Doshisha Junior High School and Miyake Junior High from Kyushuu. Just to be safe, I want someone watching that match too. So Iwasa and Kawakami, you two will take them.

"Now, you all know your room assignments. The front desk knows we've arrived and they should have our keys prepared. Drop off your bags and meet me back here in one hour, with your rackets."

As the players made their way to the hotel entrance, the team captain Hirohito Ito caught Seiichi's arm. Hirohito was tall, though still a little shorter than Seiichi, and he had the same sort of unruly hair as Daisaku, though his was a little longer. Absent for once was Hirohito's perpetual smirk. Obviously, he had something important on his mind. "What do you need, Captain?" Seiichi asked.

Even though the rest of the tennis club was already five meters ahead of them, Hirohito dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Would you mind working with Tetsuya today at practice, Seiichi? I want him to get some more practice with service returns, and your serve is the best we've got. This is nationals, and I want him to be ready for anything."

Hirohito and Tetsuya Ito were twins; fraternal, so they looked very different from one another, but twins nonetheless. There were as many differences between them as there were similarities. Hirohito was tall, while his brother was short. Hirohito was good-looking, but Tetsu-kun was genuinely beautiful. What they did share was a love of tennis, and while Tetsuya wasn't as talented as Hirohito, he was not weak either. Hirohito held the position of club captain, but Tetsuya had earned the vice-captain position on his own.

The twins made up Hida's Doubles One, and as far as Seiichi knew, except for the loss against AIT at Tokai, the Ito brothers had never been defeated. But Hirohito still pressed his brother relentlessly, making Tetsuya train harder than anyone else on the team. Tetsuya never complained; even when he looked ready to fall over from exhaustion, he would just smile and continue to play. Tetsuya had more tenacity than anyone else Seiichi had ever met.

"No problem, Captain," Seiichi replied. He took his duffel off his shoulder and rested it on the ground while he talked. "I wouldn't mind practicing my service game, anyway. Anything specific you want me to work on?"

Hirohito kicked the ground with his toes, something he often did when thinking. "Give him the standard range. I don't know what sort of serves we're going to see here. Like I said, I want Tetsuya to be ready for anything. But if you focus anywhere, focus on his backhand returns. He has the most trouble with those."

"Back-slice?" Seiichi asked a bit apprehensively.

"No, save that for tomorrow. There may be scouts watching the courts for the other teams. I want you to keep both the big serves back today. Anyway, if Tetsuya is anything, he's fast. He can already get under most of your winners. Just work him on the return strokes."

"Okay, Captain. I'll do my best." Re-shouldering his duffel bag, Seiichi began to walk toward the entrance of the Palace Hotel. Everyone else was out of sight. Probably at the front desk already, collecting their keys.

Hirohito walked beside Seiichi and spoke up again after a few steps. "How about you? Do you think you're ready for tomorrow, Seiichi? You have an extra hour to practice after everyone else. What are you going to work on?"

"Huh. I hadn't really thought about it yet. Volleys, I suppose. I still don't feel like I can get enough spin off the volleys. I mean, they go in, sure, but…. We're at nationals. That's not going to be enough, is it?"

"No, probably not." Something about the tone of Hirohito's voice made Seiichi turn to look at him. The captain's face was suddenly much more closed. Hirohito's eyes were narrower, and he walked like a man going to his death. Seiichi had never realized the competition weighed so heavily on his captain's mind. He wanted to say something to lift the suddenly somber mood, but no words came to him. The pair walked through the hotel entrance in brooding silence.

Inside, most of the club members had already left for their rooms. Only Tetsuya and Kazuki Sunama remained, standing beside the check-in desk. In many ways, Tetsuya resembled Sunama more than his own brother. They were both small. Tetsuya was in his third year at Hida, and Sunama in his second, but they were both frequently mistaken for first-years. Both of them wore wire-rimmed glasses and had the same feathery black hair. Tetsuya's ever-smiling face, though, could have been lifted straight from the pages of a comic. Sunama would have been attractive, too, except that he never smiled. His face just now was a mask of introspection, closed to the world outside.

As Seiichi and Hirohito approached the desk, Tetsuya came to meet them carrying two keys. "Hey there, Seiichi. Okay, Hirohito, I've got the keys to our room. Lets go check it out! This place looks so cool. I can't wait to see where we're gonna be sleeping!" Tetsuya grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him off to the elevators in a manic frenzy.

Sunama stayed by the front desk and watched as Seiichi approached. He looked… not upset, Seiichi didn't think he'd ever seen Sunama upset, but… distant. More than usual, as impossible as that seemed. When Seiichi was a meter away, Sunama finally spoke.

"Room 714. I'm using the shower."

That was all. He flicked his hand and sent a key sailing through the space between them. Seiichi snatched it and thrust it into his pocket. Sunama was already walking to the elevators. With his longer legs, Seiichi overtook him quickly, but instead of going ahead, he chose to just walk beside his teammate. Sunama never seemed to care one way or the other, though. As it always did when he was with Sunama, Seiichi's brain struggled to find something to talk about. And as always, it failed.

Seiichi liked Sunama. Kazuki Sunama was an amazing tennis player and as nice a person as Seiichi had met. But Seiichi had never found a way to get past Sunama's cold exterior. He didn't know what Sunama liked to do, aside from play tennis. Seiichi didn't know if he had any siblings, what his favorite comics were, or whether he liked to go to karaoke. In short, Sunama was a mystery. Still, Seiichi didn't think of Sunama as a loner, not as such. Sunama didn't appear to especially like being by himself. He just never really seemed to care whether or not there were other people around.

Stepping into the elevator, Seiichi leaned back against the wall as Sunama pressed the button for the seventh floor. And then something truly unprecedented happened. Sunama started to speak.

"Watch Hyotei tomorrow, Seiichi. Whatever Ando-sensei said, I don't think AIT is going to have an easy time getting through to the second round. I've been looking at the teams myself. Hyotei trains with Rikkai, and the only reason they weren't seated at the Kanto tournament is because they lost to the champions, Seishun Gakuen, in the first round. And Hyotei did better against Seigaku than any team in the tournament, including Rikkai."

Sunama hadn't turned around to talk; he was still facing the elevator's button panel. As he finished speaking, a chime announced their arrival on the seventh floor, and Sunama stepped out into the hallway, not even waiting for a reply from Seiichi.

Not that Seiichi was sure how to reply. Everyone on the team knew to trust Sunama's judgment. He had an uncanny knack for spotting patterns and making connections that slipped past other people. It was that trait, more than anything else, that had earned him his habitual seat as Singles Two. Sunama was an excellent tennis player in his own right, but his real gift lay in finding and exploiting the weaknesses of his opponents. Seiichi was sure that had been the reason Ando-sensei told Sunama to watch the Rikkai match – if anyone could spot the flaws in their play style, it would be Sunama. And if Sunama said Hyotei was the team to watch tomorrow….

Returning from his thoughts, Seiichi noticed that Sunama had gotten ahead of him and was already opening the door to their shared room. Seiichi slipped in behind him and tossed his duffel on the bed nearer to the window. Sunama unzipped his own bag and removed his neatly folded Hida tennis club uniform. Taking the uniform with him, Sunama stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Seiichi flopped down onto his bed and twined his fingers behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Talking with Sunama and Hirohito had brought back the pre-game nervousness he so hated. Tomorrow, his team was going to be playing for a chance at the national junior high tennis championship. And as Singles One, every match he played would either result in his team's advancement in, or removal from, the tournament. No pressure.

The sound of running water announced that Sunama was preparing to take his shower. The noise grated on Seiichi's already raw nerves for a moment, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes. Getting tense before the tournament tomorrow would just hurt his game. Seiichi needed to relax. He tried to call up soothing images: swimming in the Miyagawa river back in Hida, taking tennis lessons with Daisaku in elementary school. Gradually, the tension started to ease. The sound of water pellets coming from the bathroom became less dissonant and more rhythmic. The anxiety, ever so slowly, began to fade….

Then there was a rather loud voice, sounding all too close to his ear. Daisaku.

"What are you _doing_, Seiichi? We need to practice! Get up and get dressed, already!" Seiichi opened his eyes and realized he must have fallen asleep.

Daisaku was standing over him, a look of apprehension painted on his face. He could have been exacting revenge on Seiichi for the incident on the bus, but instead he just looked nervous about being late for practice. Seiichi glanced at the room's other bed and saw Sunama sitting there, already wearing his uniform and browsing through a notebook that might have been tennis notes or might just as well have had his math notes from last week's classes.

"Okay, okay, I'm moving." Seiichi kicked Daisaku out of the way and sat up, pulling his duffel bag onto his lap. He unzipped it and rummaged inside until he could find his own uniform. It was light blue, with black shoulders and black lettering across the back, just like the other Hida uniforms. Seiichi took off the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn on the bus ride and pulled the jersey over his head. Then he stood and slipped into the matching pants. Finally, he dug in the duffel for a pair of socks, unrolled them, and tugged them onto his feet.

Daisaku had moved to the door and was bouncing impatiently on his heels as he watched Seiichi get dressed. "Move it, Seiichi! We already have to practice an hour more than everyone else. I don't want Ando-sensei making me do anything else!"

Seiichi pulled on his shoes and tapped his toes on the floor to settle them. "He's not going to make us do any more than that, Daisaku. We have to be able to play tomorrow, remember? If we're too tired to play, we won't win, and Ando-sensei doesn't want that any more than we do." Still, Seiichi wasn't entirely sure how far Ando-sensei _would_ be willing to push, whatever he told Daisaku. Better not to take chances. Seiichi snatched up his racket and his room key, and hurried to the door. He was on the verge of telling Sunama to hurry as well, when he noticed that his roommate was already out in the hall, his racket slung over his shoulder. And the notebook still open in front of him. It had to be a tennis notebook, Seiichi thought to himself.

Seiichi jogged to the elevator and jabbed the button to go down. The other two followed him quickly, but they still had to wait nearly a minute for an elevator to arrive. Once the doors slid open, they stepped inside and Sunama pushed the button for the lobby. They spent the ride down in silence. Daisaku kept bouncing on his toes, shaking the elevator periodically.

In the lobby, the rest of the team was already assembled around Ando-sensei. Seiichi raced over with the other two and bowed a hasty apology. Fortunately, Ando-sensei just nodded in reply and started in on what he had planned to say.

"All right, everyone. Tomorrow, we'll be playing at the Arena Tennis Court complex. It's only a couple minutes from the hotel – that's why we're staying here – so we're going to walk over this afternoon and practice there." Ando-sensei kicked two large boxes at his feet. "I've got our tennis balls in here, along with some tape in case anyone blisters while we're practicing. Kamishimizu and Yamaguchi, you two can carry these boxes for me." Well, maybe there _was_ going to be a little retribution for their late arrival. "Okay, then. Everyone follow me."

Seiichi squatted to pick up one of the boxes. Beside him, Daisaku shot Seiichi a look that said he had, at last, regained his former humour and was thinking of yet more horrible things he could do, probably still involving those knives. Well, this time it really was Seiichi's fault. He shouldn't have fallen asleep before practice. But still, Daisaku could have come down by himself. It had been his choice to find Seiichi and come down together.

Hefting the box, Seiichi followed the crowd of uniforms in front of him out into the Tokyo afternoon. The streets of the Marunouchi district, near the Imperial Palace, were wide and well shaded with a canopy of trees. Ando-sensei turned right, leading the team along a major thoroughfare. They walked for about five minutes and took a left onto another wide avenue. Seiichi's arms were starting to get sore from carrying the box of tennis balls, but he knew better than to complain. Anyway, Daisaku would never whine about something like carrying tennis balls. Daisaku had been practicing kendo nearly as long as tennis, and he had the heavily muscled upper body of a kendo player. These tennis balls probably weighed nothing to him. And Seiichi wasn't about to start whining unless he could expect Daisaku to whine along with him.

Fortunately, after another minute Ando-sensei turned right again and Seiichi saw the arched sign for the Arena Tennis Court complex. It was a very nice-looking venue. There were big, leafy trees everywhere; benches and tables where you could rest for a while; vending machines every fifty meters or so. But, Seiichi supposed, of course the national tennis competition would be held somewhere nice like this. Still, as Ando-sensei led them along the brick path to the tennis courts, Seiichi couldn't help wishing he had somewhere like this to play back in Hida.

Ahead, the trees opened to show a row of empty courts. A rhythmic, muffled '_pang'_ sound told Seiichi that someone else was playing nearby, just out of sight. Ando-sensei led them down a series of steps, past terraced benches, and then pointed for Seiichi and Daisaku to leave the boxes against the wall of the court. Seiichi bent his knees and gently deposited the box, massaging his arms as he stood. Then he joined the rest of the team around Ando-sensei.

"Okay, I want all of you practicing hard today. Don't hurt yourselves, but make sure you're good and ready for tomorrow. And stick to the basics: serves, groundstrokes, volleys, smashes. None of the fancy stuff today. Now get warmed up and start practicing." With that, Ando-sensei turned and walked back to the boxes, opening them and beginning to remove the balls.

Hirohito stepped into the middle of the circle and barked, "Stretches!" Then he began the usual warm-up routine, counting off the stretches as everyone did them together. Once they were done stretching, he outlined the practice schedule for the afternoon.

"First thing today, groundstrokes. We're going to do them for twenty minutes, then volleys for another twenty. Then I want you each to do fifty smashes and fifty serves, alternate firsts and seconds. Sunama, you work with Iwasa. I'll join you two for the basic practice. Yamaguchi and Kawakami, you two together. And Tetsuya, you'll work with Kamishimizu." Everyone nodded quickly to acknowledge the pairings.

"After we finish with the basics, I want you all working on your individual strengths. Iwasa and Sunama, singles games for the rest of the practice. Sunama, see if you can find somewhere on the court Iwasa _can't_ return the ball. And Iwasa, try to force Sunama to hit back to you instead of putting the ball where he wants it." Hirohito waved his hand, and Sunama and Shouta Iwasa jogged back to Ando-sensei to collect enough tennis balls for practicing.

"Kawakami and Yamaguchi, you're our big hitters. So thirty minutes more on groundstrokes, and another fifty smashes each. Push yourselves, see how fast you can return without hitting the ball out. We're going to need speed as much as power tomorrow, and I'd rather have you testing your limits now, instead of during one of the tournament games. After that, run singles games. You'll be practicing an extra hour, so don't wear yourselves down too much." When Hirohito finished, Daisaku and Kurari went running back to ball boxes as well.

"And last of all, you two." Hirohito dropped the captain's formality for a more friendly tone. "Tetsuya, I want you practicing service returns for tomorrow. See if you can read what Seiichi is going hit. Seiichi, just push yourself for speed and accuracy. Same thing I told Daisaku and Kurari. If you're going to double-fault I'd rather you did it today instead of tomorrow. Work on that for forty-five minutes, and then run singles games for the rest of practice. I'll switch you over to Iwasa for the last hour, Seiichi. You two can keep going with the singles games after that, just make sure you're both still fit to play tomorrow."

With a last nod for Hirohito, Seiichi and Tetsuya jogged back to the balls. As they hurried to their court, Seiichi saw Hirohito stopping to talk to Ando-sensei before joining Sunama and Iwasa himself.

The impact of a racket on the back of his head brought Seiichi's attention around. "Hey!"

"I was asking," Tetsuya started, "If you thought everything was all right with Hiro? He's been acting a bit funny the last couple days. I'm worried about him."

"Hiro? Oh," Seiichi muttered, rubbing the back of his head, "It's probably just nerves, Sempai. He's the captain. He's responsible for the whole team. I know I'm nervous, but he's probably as worried as the rest of us combined. It'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure…." Tetsuya didn't look convinced, but he dropped the conversation as Seiichi turned off to take the far end of the court.

Practice was intense, with Tetsuya pushing Seiichi as hard as he could on the groundstrokes and the volleys, and Seiichi pushing right back. He lost himself in the steady rhythm, back and forth, and the time passed quickly. Smash practice was fun, as always. First Tetsuya would lob ten shots high overhead, leaving Seiichi to reposition himself and find the best point to smash from. Then Seiichi would lob ten back to Tetsuya, who would do his turn of smashing, and so they went, back and forth, until they had each done fifty. Serves worked the same way. Seiichi would hit a first serve and a second serve, then a first serve and a second serve, until he had done ten, total. If they were good, which they usually were, he and Tetsuya would play the point back and forth until someone hit a winner. Then Tetsuya would take his turn, and they would continue.

After basic practice, Seiichi and Tetsuya began to do service and return in earnest. Now, Seiichi would change between first and second serves without warning, forcing Tetsuya to read his movements to know how fast the serve would be. Seiichi hit him the usual series of serves: flat, slice, topspin, and sidespin. It gave Tetsuya a good range of heights and directions to return from. According to Hirohito, Tetsuya had the most trouble with backhand returns, so Seiichi gave a little more emphasis to those, but as far as he could tell, Tetsuya's backhand returns were just as solid as his forehands. They continued like that for forty-five minutes, usually playing out the point after Seiichi's serve. Seiichi was grateful for that – by the end of practicing service returns, his shoulder was starting to weaken, and it was good to have a rest between serves, even if it did involve sprinting around the court to fire off groundstrokes and volleys.

Tetsuya and Seiichi only had about fifteen minutes more at the end for singles games, but they still managed to play almost a full set. Seiichi was ahead at the end, 5-2, but Tetsuya was standing up to Seiichi's game better than he had just two weeks before when they practiced for Tokai.

At the end of the seventh game, Iwasa stepped in to relieve Tetsuya. Seiichi walked to the net, glad for even a small break after two hours of practice. Iwasa looked tired himself, but that could be deceptive. Iwasa always looked tired, his eyes half-lidded and his hair hopelessly disheveled, as if he had only woken up minutes earlier. Even in the middle of his fiercest games, he kept that look. Stepping to the net himself, Iwasa had a limp flexibility, as if using his muscles was just too much trouble. As he approached, he raised his voice in a loud drawl. "The captain is a friggin' maniac, Seiichi. I don' know how he 'spects us to play two more hours out 'ere. This is crap. I wanna get some sleep."

Seiichi had to bite back a laugh. You could always count on Iwasa to whine about practice. Or about school. Or about girls. Or about pretty much anything. "Let's just get this over with, Sempai. The sooner we start, the sooner they let us leave, right?"

Iwasa nodded, not so much in agreement as in refusal to bother thinking about it, and yawned, turning back to his side of the court. Seiichi turned back to his own side and pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket, bouncing it against the ground with his racket. When he reached the baseline, he snatched the ball and turned.

Iwasa's voice rang out from the other end of the court, words slurring together. "What the _frick_ are you doin', Seiichi? I'm friggin' servin' first, you moron. Now put tha' thing away 'fore I come over there an' whack you."

Seiichi shrugged and re-pocketed the ball, then stood on the baseline to receive Iwasa's serve. It came high and fast, landing just inside the service court and spinning slightly to the left. Seiichi returned it with a casual backhand, warming up to Iwasa's play style.

Iwasa just stood there as the ball came back to his court, looking like nothing so much as a deer in headlights. The ball was coming straight for him, though, and at the last minute he swung his racket. It looked more like a defense reflex than an actual stroke, but Iwasa's form was nonetheless flawless. The ball cleared the net on a flat trajectory and landed crosscourt from Seiichi, skittering to the rear wall on an overabundance of backspin.

"Wha' the _frick_? Seiichi, 're you even awake? What're ya doin' over there? We're playin' _tennis_, here, ya moron."

Seiichi didn't bother responding, he just squared his feet to receive the next serve. It looked like Iwasa was muttering something to himself as he fished another ball out of his pocket and tossed it in the air. He paused with his back arched, staring at the ball. It almost looked like he had waited too long to hit it, but when he swung through, Iwasa connected and the ball just cleared the net, striking at the back line of the service court and bouncing straight at Seiichi.

This time Seiichi didn't let the return go quite so casually. He sidestepped and struck with what looked like a forehand, but with a tiny bit of twist in the wrist. By the time the ball crossed the net, Seiichi was already moving to the center of the court. When Iwasa backhanded the ball, he gave a small grunt as it spun off his racket from the sidespin Seiichi's return had given it. Smiling to himself, Seiichi waited in place as the ball came toward him. A little bit left – Seiichi readjusted and put the ball away with an easy smash to the corner of the court farthest from Iwasa. He grinned as he returned to the service line.

"Tha's crap, Seiichi. Ya know I would'a had tha' if you hann't… Ya know wha' I mean. I'm yer sempai, an' I say tha's crap."

The next hour went like that. Iwasa would win a point and taunt Seiichi. He would lose one and spend the next minute whining. It was funny, kind of like listening to a drunken John McEnroe commenting on the match. At least Iwasa knew better than do to it at tournaments, though. Seiichi doubted many referees would put up with it. At the end of the hour, they had only played two sets – Daisaku and Kurari had gotten through three, but neither of them had spent a minute talking after every point. The first set had gone 6-4 to Seiichi; he spent a good deal of it going to the net, even when it wasn't practical, so he could work on his volleys. But Seiichi decided to get in some solid practice on the second set, and Iwasa only managed to take one game. Needless to say, the whine quotient on that second game had been astounding.

The other three players had stayed to watch the extended practice, and now were sitting with Ando-sensei on the benches near the stairs. Sunama, apparently having lost interest in the games near the end, had his nose back in the notebook he'd brought. Tetsuya and Hirohito were talking to each other, occasionally drinking from twin bottles of Pocari Sweat they must have purchased from one of the vending machines.

Seiichi had been too wrapped up in the game to notice before, but there were other people watching now too. One boy, with nearly white hair, a cross necklace, and a blue-sleeved jacket, was jotting notes on a tablet of paper. Another boy was sitting next to him, in a blue cap and the same jacket, looking at the tablet and occasionally making a quiet comment. Seiichi also saw two players wearing the telltale gold and gray jerseys of AIT Daifuzoku.

The biggest contingents, however, were a group of seven students in blue and purple short-sleeved polo shirts, and seven more wearing sleeveless red jerseys. Seiichi could just make out something printed on the front of the reds' shirts. It looked like… Roggyo? Six fish? Seiichi blinked. No, no, Rokkaku. Of course. That meant the team in blue and purple would probably be Tennoji. Whoever won between those two tomorrow would be the first team Hida had to play.

Ando-sensei ignored the spectators as he stood, and the Hida team crowded in around him. "Good work, everyone. Now let's pack up and head back to the hotel. I want you all in bed by ten. I know, this is Tokyo and you want to see it. But we're playing tomorrow, so you _sleep _tonight, got it? There'll be time for you to see Tokyo before we leave, I promise. Sunama, you and Iwasa can carry the boxes back to the hotel." It seemed Ando-sensei still hadn't forgotten who was late. Seiichi assumed Iwasa was getting landed with hauling duty for all the whining during his sets with Seiichi. Turning back toward the courts, Seiichi jogged toward one of the stray balls still lying uncollected. Of course, having to carry the boxes was likely to start a fit of whining itself. And just as he thought it, Seiichi heard Iwasa's shrill voice behind him, complaining to Ando-sensei about how tired he was already from three hours of practice, and there had to be someone else who could carry the boxes.

As Seiichi was collecting the last of the balls, Daisaku came over with eleven of his own precariously balanced on his racket. He looked like he had something he wanted to talk about, so Seiichi reined in and waited for him to approach.

Daisaku stopped, a meter away from Seiichi, and thrust his racket forward. Impressively, all the balls stayed balanced on the head. A gleam lit in Daisaku's eyes, and his mouth turned upward in a cruel smile. "It's not over between you and me, Seiichi. I'm going to get you back for today. Just you wait. It's going to be sweet, I promise you that. And there are going to be kn…. Hey! Seiichi! Where are you going? I'm not done talking to you yet. You come back here, Seiichi!"

It was something of a pity to ruin Daisaku's dramatic moment like that, but Seiichi just wanted to get back to the hotel room and rest, maybe go to a convenience store and get some dinner, watch a movie and sleep. And he wasn't going to let Daisaku stand between him and that. Tomorrow was the start of the Junior High School National Tennis Competition, and Seiichi still felt the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. At that moment, all he wanted was a chance to relax. Tomorrow would, very probably, be the most exciting and terrifying day he'd faced in his entire life.


	2. Nightmare Scenario

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Welcome back. If you're here, hopefully you enjoyed the first chapter of this little drama. In the interests of helping you, the reader, from the second chapter on, I'll be providing some notes on the new characters in this story. In this, the second chapter, we'll be following Hida's vice-captain, Tetsuya Ito on the morning of the tournament, so let's start with him.

**Tetsuya Ito (3rd year)** - Hida's Vice-Captain, Tetsuya is strong tennis player in his own right, though not as strong as his (fraternal) twin brother Hirohito. He is much shorter than Hiro, very skinny, and some students at Hida mistake him for a 1st year. He has very straight medium length black hair, which frames a heart-shaped face with the same green eyes as his brother. Tetsuya is often quiet and softspoken, with a sensitive and caring nature. He harbors a fierce competitiveness, however, that few people besides his brother have seen. (The real Tetsuya is, I kid you not, classic bishounen and looks uncannily like Satsuki Yatouji from _X/1999)_

_Play Style_: Serve and Volleyer  
_Plays_: Left-handed  
_Height_: 156cm  
_Weight_: 50kg  
_Blood Type_: B  
_Birthday_: 16 July

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 2 – Nightmare Scenario_

* * *

The sky was dark overhead, starless, as Tetsuya Ito stepped onto the tennis court. The only illumination came from two floodlights, positioned at either end of the arena. The stands around the court were silent and empty, but they had the pristine, untouched look of a hospital. On the other side of the net, a lone figure stood expectantly, racket in hand. Tetsuya couldn't see him clearly, the floodlights were blinding him, but instinct told him that the other player was his twin brother Hirohito. 

In silence, Hirohito leveled his racket and pointed it at Tetsuya. And then Tetsuya watched as his brother's form moved, uncoiling like a taut spring. Hirohito's arm shot upward, tossing a tennis ball in the air. At the same moment, he arched backward, and then sprang forward almost too quickly to follow. Hirohito's racket struck the ball as it was still rising from the toss. The ball crossed the net, flat and low, and struck the corner of the service court. Tetsuya was already running, focusing on the return, but his legs felt heavy, waterlogged. He was going to miss the return. Tetsuya lunged, thrusting his racket in front of him. Not enough! As his foot struck the hard court surface, he kicked off again, diving for the ball. Finally, Tetsuya's racket connected. He struck the ground and turned his head to watch the tennis ball curve through the air. Tetsuya's shot was going to clear the net; it was going to land back in Hirohito's court. He had done it.

A blur of motion at the net, a black shape set in stark relief by the floodlights behind him. Tetsuya watched as a racket spun and struck, before his return even landed. The smash careened toward Tetsuya, struck just centimeters away from where he was lying after his dive, and rebounded into his diaphragm, knocking the breath out of him. Hirohito's voice, usually loving but now icy cold, rang out from the other court. "No good. Again."

Tetsuya stood, ignoring the pain in his chest, and planted himself at the service line. Again, he watched as Hirohito's form whipped back and forward, again he saw the Rising-Toss Serve whisper past the net and rebound against the outside corner of the service court. Again, Tetsuya found himself lunging, then diving, for the return. Again, he succeeded in connecting, this time sending the ball back to Hirohito's baseline. With cold precision, Hirohito swung his racket in a forehand arc. The ball struck the taught strings of the racket and sprang back toward Tetsuya, still lying prone. Tetsuya tried to block the ball, tried to roll away, but he couldn't. The ball slammed into his left calf and rebounded into the air. Tetsuya wanted to scream, but he clenched his teeth against the pain. He could not let Hirohito think he was weak. Tetsuya would endure whatever his brother made him endure.

And again, that same glacial voice. "No good. Again."

As Tetsuya rose to his feet, trying not to favor his left leg, a buzzing filled his ears like the voice of a thousand angry bumblebees. He gripped his racket more tightly and shook his head, hoping to dispel the ringing. It passed for a moment, but then came back more insistent than ever. The buzzing was making it hard to concentrate. Distracted, Tetsuya hardly noticed as his brother's back arched once more, as his racket smashed into the ball. The ball rebounded in the middle of the service court this time, moving faster than ever before. The buzzing faded again, and Tetsuya realized that the ball, still moving far too fast, was traveling straight for his head.

Biting back a yelp of terror, Tetsuya sat bolt upright in bed to discover that the hotel alarm clock was chiming insistently. He blinked, disorientated, the frightening image of his brother still burned into his mind. It took Tetsuya a full half-minute to remember the alarm and press the wall buttons to turn it off. Slowly, he came back to himself and glanced around the still-dark room.

Hirohito was lying on a large bed about a meter from Tetsuya's own. He was snoring softly. The alarm hadn't been enough to wake him. Tetsuya glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. Well, it had been his choice to get up early. Tetsuya had wanted a chance to warm up for today, the first day of the tournament, by using the hotel gym. He had asked Hirohito, before they had both gone to sleep, if Hirohito wanted to join him in the morning. Hiro, though, had decided he would rather sleep a little longer. Tetsuya had agreed to wake him by five-thirty. That gave Tetsuya about ninety minutes to work out in the gym. Tetsuya liked to wake up early, even on weekends, but he found himself fighting off a yawn as he changed into his training-wear and left to find the exercise room.

The hall outside was still quiet. No one, not even Tetsuya's teammates, was likely to be awake this early. Tetsuya stopped by the vending machine on his floor and bought a half-liter bottle of Pocari Sweat. Then, tossing his workout towel over his shoulder and fighting down another yawn, he wandered back out to the elevator. When it arrived, Tetsuya stepped inside and traced his finger over the floor listings. First floor: check-in and bar. Second floor: meeting rooms, Italian restaurant. Third floor… there it was. Third floor: exercise facilities, pool, and sauna. Tetsuya hit the button and leaned back against the wall as the elevator rumbled to life.

For half a minute, the pervasive silence of the early morning was broken by the low thrum of the elevator. Then it chimed, and the elevator doors opened onto a brightly lit corridor with glass windows showing an Olympic-sized pool to the left and an extensive collection of exercise machines to the right. Tetsuya walked down the hall and slipped through the door to the gym. The lights were on, invitingly, but it was quiet in the empty exercise room. Quiet suited Tetsuya's mood; he was still brooding about the dream that had woken him.

Tetsuya knew that Hirohito would never hurt him, not on purpose at least. Sometimes Tetsuya felt like his brother made him train harder than the rest of the club combined, but that didn't bother Tetsuya. The dream, no, the nightmare, couldn't mean anything...

Could it? Tetsuya didn't like the question, but it came unbidden to his mind, and he found himself unable to push it away.

Ever since the Tokai tournament, Hirohito had been different: colder, harder, more distant. Tetsuya had played tennis with his brother since they were both barely out of diapers, and he knew how much Hirohito loved the game. But in the weeks since Tokai, Hirohito had lost his usual smile, and the grin he always, _always_ wore on the tennis court had vanished entirely. Hirohito was like a different person, not the brother Tetsuya knew at all.

Tetsuya's thoughts roamed over the time since Tokai, cataloging all the changes in Hirohito. Was it really just the pressure of the national tournament, or was it something more, something Hirohito wouldn't even tell his own brother. The thought nagged at Tetsuya. There was no one in the world closer to him than Hirohito, and Tetsuya had thought his brother felt the same about him. But Hirohito had never seemed this distant before. There had been plenty of pressure before the Tokai tournament, and still Hirohito had been his same carefree, happy self then. What had changed since Tokai?

Again, a ringing noise pulled Tetsuya back to the real world. He glanced down and found himself jogging on a treadmill, the digital watch on his right wrist beeping it's own alarm to tell him it was five-fifteen, time to return to the room and wake Hirohito. He didn't remember starting on the treadmill, or on any of the other machines for that matter. His body must have just moved on instinct as he stewed in his own thoughts. Wiping his damp forehead with the exercise towel, Tetsuya powered-down the machine and grabbed his bottle of Pocari. Absorbed in his brooding, Tetsuya hadn't notice the time pass. As he left the exercise room, Tetsuya realized that his planned morning warm-up hadn't helped. A chill had settled into his bones. He was worried about his brother, but at the same time Tetsuya was too afraid to confront him. How much could he have changed?

Back in the room they shared, Tetsuya flipped on the lights and walked over to Hirohito's bed. His brother was still sleeping soundly, lying on his side with his hands folded under his pillow. Tetsuya reached out to grip his brother's shoulder, noticing that his hand trembled as he did. He shook Hiro gently and tried to make his voice cheerful as he called, "Wake up, sleepyhead. We've got a tournament to win today."

Hirohito shivered and blinked, and for a moment as his eyes met Tetsuya's own, he smiled. Tetsuya almost gasped. It was the old Hiro looking at him, the one who had stood up for him in elementary school when other children picked on him for being so small, the one who was always there to comfort Tetsuya when he got hurt. For a moment, all the fear of the previous hour fled and Tetsuya felt safe and warm again. And then, as he watched, that same hardness slipped over Hiro's eyes. It was like a lead weight falling in the pit of Tetsuya's stomach.

Tetsuya took an involuntary step back as Hirohito swung his legs off the bed. Stretching his arms over his head, Hirohito asked, "Do you mind if I use the shower, Tetsu?" Tetsuya shook his head quickly and turned his back on his brother, hoping none of his anxiety had shown on his face. He snatched his duffle bag from the foot of his bed and began rummaging inside it, trying not to be conspicuous about avoiding his brother's gaze.

"How was the gym?" Tetsuya heard a rustle of sheets behind him, announcing that Hiro was climbing out of bed.

"Fine, I guess. I was the only one using it. It seemed pretty nice." To Tetsuya's own ears, his voice sounded hollow. Hirohito didn't seem to notice, though. Tetsuya's brother hardly seemed to be paying attention to the conversation. From the corner of his eye, Tetsuya saw Hiro slip past him and enter the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and moments later Tetsuya heard the roar of water announcing Hiro's shower.

With Hirohito safely in the bathroom, Tetsuya grabbed the duffle bag he had been fiddling with and threw it petulantly across the room. This was pointless. Tetsuya was in danger of succumbing to his own paranoid delusions. In this state, he'd probably lose his first match before he stepped onto the court. Tetsuya flopped backward onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had to be strong today, for Hida's sake and for Hirohito's. People were counting on him.

As Hirohito showered, Tetsuya tried to focus himself on the tournament, on what he and the rest of the Hida team would face today. In his head, Tetsuya ran over what he knew of the schedule. Because they had won the Tokai tournament, Hida would be given a bye through the first round of play. Their first opponents would be whichever team won between Osaka's Tennoji Junior High and Chiba's Rokkaku Junior High. Assuming Hida won there, they would probably play AIT, the Tokai number two, in the quarterfinals. After that would come the semifinals, if Hida could make it that far. There were six teams competing for those semifinal slots, but it was a safe bet that Rikkai, last year's national champions, would come out on top. And then, if Hida could win against Rikkai, they would be in to the final, against whoever claimed victory in the other block of matches.

Slowly, slowly, Tetsuya forced his anxiety about Hirohito to the back of his mind. There were more important things, at least for the next two days. And however much Tetsuya might worry, it seemed unlikely that the situation with Hiro could be resolved just now, with the pressure of the tournament looming over the whole Hida team and most especially its captain. As Hirohito stepped out of the bathroom, steam rising off his body from the residual heat of the shower, Tetsuya even managed some of his usual chipper banter before taking his own turn to wash up.

The bathroom was still thick with steam when Tetsuya entered. Closing the door, he slipped out of the training clothes he had warn to the gym and started running the tap. Tetsuya tested the water with his hand and, finding it too hot, adjusted the temperature down to a comfortable level. With the team preparing to meet in the hotel lobby at 6:30, Tetsuya knew he should shower quickly. But another part of him knew that today, more than any other day, he needed the relaxation afforded by the shower. 6:30 was still more than half an hour away and, frankly, Ando-sensei's schedule planned for them to arrive at the Arena Tennis complex so early that Tetsuya didn't think it would matter if he delayed the team by a few minutes.

Tetsuya stepped into the large tub and pulled the curtain closed behind him. He let the water wash over him and felt his muscles slowly relaxing. He wasn't sure how long he spent in the shower, trying to calm his nerves and forget the morning's dream. Time seemed to fly by, and just as Tetsuya reached for the shampoo, he heard a loud knock on the bathroom door. "Move it, Tetsu. We're supposed to meet Ando-sensei in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

Sighing to himself, Tetsuya called back. "All right. Just let me finish washing my hair." Rubbing his hands together, Tetsuya scrubbed them quickly through his scalp and lathered the shampoo into a foamy mess. After rinsing it out of his hair, Tetsuya stopped the tap and began briskly drying himself with one of the white towels provided by the hotel. He wrapped it around his hair to absorb any excess water and pulled on his boxers. Throwing the training clothes over his arm, he pulled the door open and stepped into the much-colder air of the hotel room.

Hirohito was already dressed, with his racket case slung across his back. He was perched on the edge of his bed, pouring over a small packet of papers, information about the national tournament, that Tetsuya was sure Hiro had already read through at least fifty times.

"Learning anything interesting?" Tetsuya asked, trying to return to his normal cheerfulness.

Hirohito shook his head without looking up. "No, not especially. But I want to make sure I don't forget anything important. Everybody will be counting on me today. Not the time for me to make stupid mistakes." The same cold, dead tones that had haunted Tetsuya's dreams.

Tetsuya squashed the fluttering feeling in his stomach. This was no time for him to fall apart, either. Tetsuya was Hida's vice-captain, and he had a duty to be a leader for the team. Even if, especially if, the captain couldn't provide that leadership himself. Tetsuya made a conscious effort to relax his voice before speaking. "Don't worry so much, Hiro. There are seven of us on this team. You're not alone. And just think, even if we lose in our first match, no one from Hida has ever done anything like this. We've already gone farther than anyone could hope."

At those final words, Hirohito's head whipped around and his eyes burned deep into Tetsuya's own. An image flashed in Tetsuya's mind, of the dream, of Hirohito's silhouette standing at the net and cruelly, coldly, ordering him to continue. And then Hirohito spoke, in a voice like mixed ice and fire. "Don't you dare talk like that, Tetsuya! Don't you even think about losing! I didn't expect I'd hear that from anyone on this team. But from _you_?"

Hirohito rose, clenching the sheaf of papers in his hand, and for the first time in his life Tetsuya was aware just how much larger his brother was. Tetsuya took a step back. He wanted to cower, wanted to run from Hirohito as fast as his legs would take him. Tetsuya was still wearing only his boxers and the towel wrapped around his hair. Near nakedness somehow made Hirohito's verbal assault even more frightening to Tetsuya. He felt like a panicked rabbit staring into the eyes of a ferocious wolf.

But then Hirohito visibly controlled himself. His lips twitched, writhed, settled into a thin, tight line. The fire slowly faded from his eyes to be replaced by the same leaden blankness they had shown so often of late. Hirohito moved downward, slowly settling himself once more on the edge of his bed. He glanced away for a moment in what looked like embarrassment, and then brought his eyes back to meet Tetsuya's.

"I'm… sorry, Tetsuya. I don't know what… I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just…." Hirohito's voice trailed off into silence and his eyes slipped down into his lap, where one of his hands still held the crumpled tournament information packet. But even now, Tetsuya still heard the edge of that same icy distance in Hiro's tone.

Tetsuya went to his duffle bag and began digging for his uniform. It took him a while to find something to say, too long he knew, but he was still trembling at the memory of the scene that had just played out. "…it's okay, Hiro. You're under a lot of pressure. We all are. Don't worry about it. Just… try to relax, y'know?" The words must have sounded hollow even to Hirohito, but Tetsuya knew he couldn't do better, not anymore.

The nightmare this morning had been just that, a nightmare. And however long it had taken, Tetsuya had finally managed to get past it, finally managed to convince himself that he was giving too much weight to the changes he saw in Hirohito. But this, the blazing fury he had seen in Hiro's eyes, was something else entirely.

Finding his uniform, Tetsuya focused his thoughts on unwrapping the towel around his hair, pulling the jersey over his head, sliding his arms through its sleeves, slipping into the loose, cool tennis shorts. Anything to keep his mind from Hirohito, anything to put off confronting what had just happened. Hirohito seemed to be doing the same now, smoothing out the crumpled papers and making a show of checking that all his equipment was in order. Silently, as Tetsuya finished dressing and grabbed his racket, they both made their way to the door and exited into the hall.

The walk to the elevator was funereal. Neither Tetsuya nor Hirohito seemed able to find the words they needed to break the silence. Not that Tetsuya was sure Hiro even cared to try. They walked in a slow lockstep, each wanting to be alone, but unable to find even a flimsy excuse to leave the other. _What happened, Hiro? Where did you go?_ The thoughts came unbidden, and in a sudden rage Tetsuya screamed in his mind for silence. But still, the thought came.

_Why did you leave me here, alone?_

Alone. That one word resonated inside Tetsuya's heart, striking with a force that made him stumble. Tetsuya stabbed his finger at the button to call the elevator, trying to disguise his falter. A part of him wished he hadn't. A part wished he'd just fallen beside the wall, something to huddle against as he sobbed his heart away, and then maybe Hirohito's eyes would soften, maybe his brother would hold him and make everything better, like he always used to before.

But then that word came back, _alone_, and cold fear clutched Tetsuya's chest. This wasn't the Hirohito he knew. This Hirohito didn't hold him and stroke his hair to take away the pain. This Hirohito was every bit as frightening as the silhouette in Tetsuya's dream.

This Hirohito was not his brother. And Tetsuya was alone.

The elevator chime sounded mockingly cheerful to Tetsuya's ears. As the door slipped open, he stepped inside on legs that felt like lead. Hirohito pushed the button for the lobby, and for the second time that day, Tetsuya spent the ride listening intently to the mechanical rumblings of the elevator.

An eternity later, the doors opened onto the brightly lit lobby of Tokyo's Palace Hotel. Tetsuya almost gasped with relief when he saw that most of the team was already assembled around Ando-sensei in the middle of the lobby, a small crowd of pale-blue and black uniforms. He hurried out of the elevator to join them, finally finding a worthy excuse to escape the stranger that was his brother.

Tetsuya skidded to a stop next to Sunama, his usual smile back in place. Inside, he still felt the same persistent dread he had a minute before, but Tetsuya found it easier to act like his old self when he was with the other members of the tennis club. Turning to Sunama, Tetsuya found that his voice had regained its usual exuberance as well. "Hey, Kazuki! What's up?"

Sunama turned his head and gave a small nod to Tetsuya. "Good morning, Sempai." He didn't smile; Sunama never smiled. Sunama was the only member of the tennis club shorter than Tetsuya, but he had the sort of dignified presence that commanded respect and courtesy. And because of that, no matter how many times Tetsuya called him Kazuki, he would remain, now and forever, Sunama.

Ando-sensei gave a small nod of greeting to Tetsuya and another to Hirohito as he entered the circle of players. Glancing around the group, he did a very quick headcount and clicked his tongue in exasperation when he found one member still missing. "Kamishimizu. Again. Where is that blasted boy?"

Sunama took a small step forward and bowed his head. The other players fell silent, focusing their attention on the small boy. "He and I left our room at the same time, Sensei, but he stopped to buy something from the vending machine. I don't know why he's taking so long." Conversation stopped for a moment as everyone turned to listen to Sunama. With another small bow, however, Sunama retreated back into the circle. The moment passed, and conversation resumed among the players.

Sunama reached into his tennis bag and extracted a small, blue notebook that he opened and began to read. Tetsuya had been about to join in the conversation between Kurari and Daisuke Yamaguchi when the notebook tugged at his attention. It was the same notebook, unless Tetsuya was much mistaken, that Sunama had been reading after practice the day before. Curiosity impelled Tetsuya to take a closer look at what his teammate was reading, and he shifted his position slightly to see inside the notebook.

Sunama made no indication that he was aware of Tetsuya's attempt, but he adjusted his position. It looked like the most natural thing in the world, the action of someone who had been standing still too long and needed to reposition his body, but the motion left Tetsuya totally unable to view the notebook. Now more curious than ever, Tetsuya was beginning to consider abandoning subtlety and stepping around behind Sunama to read over his shoulder. A loud call from the elevators, however, disrupted his concentration. Seiichi Kamishimizu had appeared, late as usual, and was sprinting across the lobby toward the gathered members of the tennis club. Tetsuya glanced at Sunama again, but found that they boy's notebook had disappeared back into his tennis bag.

"Hey! Sorry Ando-sensei, sorry guys," Seiichi panted as he rested his hands on his knees and tried to regain his breath. "I was up at the… and there was this… and then…." Seiichi made wild arm gestures as he spoke, as if they could explain the details so sorely lacking in his story. "And anyway, she found it and now there won't be any problem with the fish," he concluded.

Tetsuya wondered, not for the first time, if Seiichi's non-stories represented a gift for making excuses or a genuine mental defect.

Ando-sensei just scrubbed a hand through his hair and glanced at the Hida players to see if anyone understood what Seiichi had just said. Six blank stares met his own. He sighed. "Whatever. Just try to be on time tomorrow, Kamishimizu, all right?"

Seiichi looked crestfallen at the lack of enthusiasm in Ando's voice. "But she was… and they were all like… and then the fish!" However poor the story might be, Tetsuya thought Seiichi was doing rather a good job as an air traffic controller.

Ando's voice had a conciliatory tone. "It's okay, Kamishimizu. We all understand." Clearly, none of them did. "You… erm… I'm sure you did the right thing." Tetsuya noticed Ando-sensei's eye twitching violently at those last words; it looked like it was taking real self-restraint for the tennis club advisor to keep himself from throttling his ace singles player.

Apparently, Ando's platitudes were enough to mollify Seiichi. Beaming with delight, he gave a quick bow to Ando-sensei and took his place in the circle with the other students.

"Well… Now that…" Ando's eye twitched again. "Anyway! I want to go over the schedule one last time before we head to the courts." It's… about six-thirty now. The opening ceremony will start at nine o'clock, so we should have quite a bit of time before that happens. I want you all to warm up before the ceremony. We'll use the same courts as yesterday. Don't work yourselves too hard. Save your best play for the real matches today. We'll head over to center court at eight-forty. Then, after the ceremony, I want all of you watching the other teams, like we talked about yesterday. Hirohito and Tetsuya will take the Tennoji-Rokkaku match; whoever wins there will be our first opponents. Kamishimizu and Yamaguchi will watch AIT – we beat them once at Tokai, but that's no reason to get lazy. Kawakami and Iwasa, you're on Doshisha and Miyake. And I don't care what you think, Iwasa; if I find out you weren't watching that game I'll have you running laps every day for the next month. And Sunama will take care of Rikkai. Everyone got it?"

The Hida players gave a loud, chorused "Yes!"

Ando nodded in approval. "Then let's get out of here." He kicked the boxes of tennis gear at his feet, the same boxes he had brought out the previous day. "I'll carry one of these today. Yamaguchi, you get the other."

Daisaku Yamaguchi's face flared with indignation. "Me? Why me? Seiichi's the one who was la…"

Cutting him off before he could go any further, Ando growled. "Just do it, Daisaku." Twitch. "Faster we get to Arena Tennis, the more time you all have to warm up. Move it!" Reaching down, Ando grabbed one of the boxes and headed for the hotel doors. Grumbling to himself, Daisaku reluctantly picked up the other box and followed. Fortunately, Hirohito seemed perfectly happy to shadow Ando-sensei, walking beside Daisaku and ignoring the rest of the team. Tetsuya hung back near Sunama. The other players were talking with one another, but Tetsuya still felt better-suited to silence.

As the Hida tennis club rounded the turn they had taken the day before, Kurari danced in front of Tetsuya and began to walk backwards while he talked. "Hey, Sempai, what's up? You seem kind of quiet today. Nervous about the tournament?"

Tetsuya gave a convincing grin and shook his head. "Nah, I don't worry about things like that. We're the best," he declared with mock bravado. "We've got this one in the bag."

"Glad to hear it, Sempai! I was worried Shouta and I might have to really play today, pick up the slack for you and the Captain," Kurari laughed. Along with Shouta Iwasa, Kurari made up Hida's Doubles Two team. Both he and Shouta were strong players, but they were notorious delinquents as well, on and off the court. They only played their best when they really thought there was a reason to do so. Tetsuya hoped that being at the national tournament would be reason enough to make them play their best.

"You just do your part of it, and we'll see to ours," Tetsuya warned with a small smile. "There's nothing I'd like better than to keep Kazuki off the courts all day." Tetsuya turned his smile on Sunama, still walking beside him. "No offense, Kazuki."

"None taken, Sempai," Sunama responded in his usual emotionless voice.

Kurari dithered. "Well, I don't know about that… Shouta looks awfully tired to me, and I could use some more sleep myself." This was going somewhere, and Tetsuya was sure he didn't want to know where that was. "Hey, Sempai, how about you put in a word with Ando-sensei! Everybody knows whoever wins between Doshisha and Miyake, they haven't got a prayer against Rikkai in the quarter finals. And Shouta an' I, we play first! I think we'd both do better if we could get a nap instead of watching that stupid match."

Tetsuya laughed out loud, his face splitting into a wide grin. "You want _me_ to ask _Ando-sensei_ to let you out of watching your match? What, are you crazy? No way are you getting me into this. Ando-sensei says you watch that game, so you watch it. And don't you dare try to skip out, or I'll make sure you're doing more than extra laps every day. Whose idea was this, anyway?"

Kurari gave a sullen glance to his left. "It was Shouta's…. He figured maybe you'd be willing to ease up on us. We really are tired, you know."

Tetsuya fixed Kurari with the strongest glare he could muster. "Everyone's tired, Kurari, and not just on our team. This is Nationals, not like one of our games back in Hida. Everybody works his hardest today. That's how we do this. You and Shouta watch your game, and then you be ready to play, and win, the first set we play against… whoever wins the match I'm watching. Got it?"

Kurari sighed and gave a little nod before turning his back on the vice-captain and taking up his place beside Iwasa again.

Tetsuya walked the rest of the way to Arena Tennis in silence. He forced himself not to brood, instead trying to let his mind drift. After a minute, Tetsuya discovered that he'd started sightseeing. Tokyo was the largest city in the world, and like any huge city, it was by turns both ugly and picturesque. Vast stretches of Tokyo were nothing more than concrete jungle, without even the lurid beauty of neon signs. Other parts, like Akihabara, were lovely in their own way because they _were_ part of the concrete jungle, but with such a dazzling array of lights and attractions that you couldn't help but love them. But in all of Tokyo, there were few places as scenic as the area near the Imperial Palace. The buildings had an elegance here, and they fit well with the surrounding greenery. As he walked, Tetsuya slowly became lost in the scenery, and it was with surprise that he noticed the looming arch of the Arena Tennis complex standing before him, just another set piece among the trees.

Ando-sensei guided the team through the complex on the same path they had taken the previous day. Even before seven o'clock, though, Arena Tennis was alive. There were players wandering the paths in uniforms of every color. At first, Tetsuya tried to pay attention to all the uniforms and see if he could find any of the teams he knew were playing, but he quickly realized that there were many more uniforms present than there were teams playing in the tournament. With the national competition being held in Tokyo this year, no doubt every school in Kanto with a serious tennis team would want to come watch. And considering the number of people who lived in of the Kanto region….

When the Hida team arrived at the courts they had used the previous day, they found another team already using half of them to practice. There were small clusters of observers in the stands, watching the team on the courts. Each group had its own uniform, and bunched together in little pockets the stands looked like a spotty rainbow. Ando-sensei led the way down the steps to the floor of the large practice arena: half the courts were still open, and they would provide just enough room for the Hida players to warm up as well.

As he walked down the stairs, Tetsuya tried to get a look at the team on the other courts. They had black uniforms with white lettering on the back. Tetsuya thought the characters spelled 'Fudomine', but he wasn't entirely sure. The name was not familiar, but Tetsuya hadn't learned all the tournament teams by heart. He assumed they must be part of the tournament, or else why would they be practicing this morning. Which meant they must be playing in the other block. In that case, this would probably be the only time Tetsuya saw them play, unless the team in black somehow managed to beat out all the seated teams and make it to the finals.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ando-sensei deposited his box against the back wall of the court. Daisaku did the same, sighing gratefully to be rid of the load. As the Hida players filed onto the court, they circled around Ando-sensei again.

"Okay, I want everyone working in the same pairings as yesterday," Ando told them quietly. "Kamishimizu, you and Tetsuya take the courts by that other team. Sunama and Iwasa on the next court. Yamaguchi and Kawakami, the court after that. And Hirohito, I'll help you warm up on the far court." Ando pointed to each court as he named the pairs and, at the end, unslung the racket case from his back and unzipped it to reveal a red Prince O3 that drew stares of both admiration and envy from the team members. Ando always brought a racket to practice, but it was a very rare event for him to actually hit with the team, and no one had known that Ando was secretly harboring the premier racket of the Prince line.

Once he had removed the racket, Ando laid his case on the ground and popped open one of the boxes to reveal a pile of tennis balls. He grabbed a handful, shoved them in his pocket, and began walking toward the far court he would share with Hirohito. The other players were quick to follow, freeing their own rackets and leaving the cases in a pile near Ando's. When Tetsuya had his own Wilson Triad 4 out, he took a few of the tennis balls and headed to the court adjacent to the black-jacketed players.

As he walked to his court, Tetsuya had another chance to read the white characters on the jacket. They did say 'Fudomine', but nothing else, nothing about where this Fudomine team might be from. As he watched the two players on the nearest court, Tetsuya started to wonder why he hadn't heard the name before. One of them was wearing a black cap, and seemed to be pretty strong. Black-cap had excellent court coverage and very fast ground strokes. He looked better than most of the players Tetsuya had seen at Tokai; better than any of the ones Tetsuya had played against, certainly, even the AIT pair that he and Hiro had lost to in the finals. But it was the other player who really caught Tetsuya's attention.

Across the net from Black-cap was a tall, muscular player with short, spiky bleach-blond hair. His appearance reminded Tetsuya of Hida's own Daisaku Yamaguchi, and his game seemed to revolve around power, also like Daisaku. But the similarities ended there. Daisaku's game centered on power because his strength was his strongest asset. It was clear that Fudomine's Blond-hair focused on power only because he chose to. Blond-hair wasn't just strong, he was fast and he was precise. He moved around the court with a fluidity and grace that Daisaku had never shown, and his shots went exactly where he wanted them to go. Blond-hair had all of Daisaku's strengths, but none of his weaknesses it seemed.

With the possible exception of Sunama and Seiichi, Tetsuya had never seen anyone play at the level Blond-hair was playing, and as good as the rest of Hida might be, Tetsuya knew that without those two to anchor the singles line, Hida never could have made it to the national tournament. If this team, who Tetsuya had never heard of, had players like them, maybe even players better than them…. The national tournament, it seemed, was going to be much harder than the Tokai competition.

Seiichi appeared at Tetsuya's elbow. "Hey, do you know who those guys are?" he asked.

Tetsuya glanced around and saw a look of intense concentration on Seiichi's face. It was the sort of look Seiichi occasionally wore in the middle of his games. In the last year Tetsuya had come to realize that in the moment Seiichi got that look, for all practical purposes, his match came to an end. Tetsuya had never seen anyone but Sunama score a point on Seiichi after he entered that focused mode. For him to be wearing that look now, when Seiichi wasn't even playing….

"Their jackets say 'Fudomine', but I've never heard of them. Sorry, Seiichi."

"Fudomine? I think I remember reading something about them…." Seiichi's voice sounded distant. "Yeah. They're from Tokyo. Not in our block. They haven't won a tournament all year. But they've been at all the same tournaments as Seishun Gakuen, the guys who beat last year's champions."

Tetsuya shivered. This wasn't like Seiichi at all, this type of encyclopedic knowledge. There was something strange in Seiichi's voice, something that chilled Tetsuya to the bone. He remembered listening to Hirohito tell ghost stories once, when they'd gone on a camping trip in elementary school, and Hiro's voice then had had the same eerie quality that Seiichi's possessed now.

"They say the team is all second-years," Seiichi continued. "Everyone but the captain, Tachibana. Tachibana trained them all, built the team himself, and they've been going up against strong teams all year. Only two teams they haven't beaten at least once: Rikkai and Seigaku.

"You remember a few years back, when we were all in elementary school, a guy named Goran Ivanisevic won Wimbledon? I remember, I'd played for a few years but I was just starting to enjoy watching the game on TV. They said Ivanisevic was a wild card. Hadn't won a tournament all year, wasn't even ranked in the top 100. And he came to Wimbledon, and he beat everyone. The final match went five sets, and the last set lasted for sixteen games. My dad told me he'd never seen anything like it.

"I kinda thought we were like Ivanisevic this year: the dark horse, the team no one expected to win that went all the way. But we're not. Fudomine is the real Ivanisevic. They've only lost three times this year, and they've never lost to the same team twice.

"Every single player on that team is good, better than anyone we've played all year. But their singles squad is second to none. And Tachibana, their captain, is supposed to be one of the best players in this tournament. I don't remember too much about him, other than that he has a mark, right in the middle of his forehead, like a little dot…."

Just then, as Tetsuya and Seiichi stepped onto their court, the Fudomine players stopped for a moment. Black-cap put a hand to his visor and did a quick survey of the Hida players. Blond-hair turned as well, and Tetsuya got his first clear look at the Fudomine player. He had a presence like Sunama that commanded respect, and he wore a look of iron will on his face. Blond-hair didn't bother shading his eyes against the sun; he looked out over the Hida players like a lion surveying his prey. And as Blond-hair's gaze swept past him, Tetsuya noticed a tiny spot, like a pinprick, in the middle of the Fudomine player's forehead.

Tetsuya felt that same ghost story tension, but magnified tenfold. He glanced over at Seiichi to see if he had noticed the dot as well.

Seiichi, who Tetsuya thought he knew so well, Seiichi who was always laughing and making jokes, now looked like a completely different person. His shoulders were square, his back straighter, and there was a fire in his eyes that Tetsuya had never seen. The look of concentration Seiichi had worn a moment before was replaced now with a focus so intense it made the rest of the world, Tetsuya included, seem pale and washed-out. Glancing back, Tetsuya saw that Blond-hair, Tachibana, had stopped surveying the Hida players as well, and that his eyes were directed at Seiichi. The connection lasted no more than a second, and Tetsuya wasn't sure anyone else had even seen it, but he knew that something had been communicated in that brief time. Someone had issued a challenge and someone else had answered it.

Seiichi's mouth twisted into a small, secretive smile, and he spoke to the air in front of him. "I want to play against him."

Tetsuya, still feeling uneasy, tried to bring his teammate's attention back to the present. "Fudomine is in the other block, Seiichi. We're not going to see them unless we make it to the finals."

Shaking his head in surprise, Seiichi looked down at Tetsuya and stared for a moment, almost as if he'd forgotten where he was. Then he seemed to come back to himself and gave a warm smile. "Well, then, Sempai, I guess we'll have win our way there."


	3. Bees

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Welcome back, yet again. I hope you've enjoyed the first two chapters. This third installment follows Daisaku Yamaguchi during the first round of play, as he goes to scout on some of the teams at the national tournament. You should see some familiar faces appear before this chapter is over. This time around on our OC spotlight, let's take a look at Daisaku.

**Daisaku Yamaguchi (2nd year)** - Naturally athletic, Daisaku enjoys playing both tennis and kendo (a Japanese martial art where armored players spar against each other with bamboo swords), and has done both since he was very young. He habitually fills the Singles Three spot for Hida, although he is generally regarded (with Yuya Kawakami) as one of the team's two weakest players. Daisaku is tall and well muscled from all his years of swinging sword and racket. Thanks to this he is recognized as the team's best power hitter, although his range of shots is limited. He has an oval-shaped face and short, mussy, bleach-blond hair. (The real Daisaku is not quite as big as, but looks similar to, Shiyu Kusanagi from _X/1999)_

_Play Style_: Aggressive Baseliner  
_Plays_: Right-handed  
_Height_: 183cm  
_Weight_: 72kg  
_Blood Type_: B  
_Birthday_: 8 August

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 3 - Bees_

* * *

Daisaku Yamaguchi collapsed onto the bench, cradling his head in his hands. A towel, already damp with perspiration, hung around the back of his neck and trailed its twin ends over his shoulders. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, stinging as they trickled into his eyes. Daisaku panted, gulping down air in a futile effort to fill his lungs. A tingling sensation spread through his body, starting at his toes and running quickly up his spine and to the ends of his fingers, as oxygen finally infused his bloodstream. 

The sun was peeking over the treetops just past the edge of the tennis court. It was only eight-thirty in the morning, and the first-day matches of the All-Japan Junior High School Tennis Championships had yet to begin, but Daisaku felt like he'd played a full day of tennis. Worse, the day was already hot this early and threatened to become sweltering by noon.

Daisaku whipped a hand up to the towel around his neck and snatched it over his head, scrubbing the towel over his spiked bleach-blond hair and his forehead to pick up some of the sweat that kept sliding down his face. He heaved a sigh and willed his muscles to relax.

Ando-sensei had told the Hida players not to overwork themselves, and glancing around the courts as the warm-up play finished, Daisaku saw that everyone but he and his practice partner Kurari still seemed in top form. But Daisaku and Kurari were Hida's two big hitters, and whenever they hit against each other, they always played their hardest. It was something of an unspoken competition between them. Daisaku never bothered to consider why they fought each other so hard. It just felt right, like anything less would be an insult. If Daisaku was going to play Kurari, he was going to play like his life depended on the outcome, and Kurari seemed to feel the same way.

"It's sort of like kendo, I suppose."

Daisaku didn't realize that he'd voiced his thought until he heard Kurari's voice, sharp and high-pitched, responding. "What's like kendo, Daisaku?" The other player flopped onto the bench beside Daisaku, reclining and draping his arms behind the back of the bench. "Or were you talking to yourself again?" There was a hint of amusement in Kurari's tone.

"Oh, I dunno." Daisaku dithered for a moment before answering. "The way we play, I guess. In kendo, you're always supposed to treat each strike like your life depended on it. You give everything you have, all the time. Sorta like how we play when we're up against each other."

Kurari snorted. "Crap, Daisaku, s'that what you think?" Barking a laugh, Kurari grabbed the towel off Daisaku's head and used it to wipe his own sweat away. "I just play like that 'cause… Ehh, whatever. I dunno. But I mean, it's not like I get any practice playing Shouta." Kurari gave a quick shrug and threw the towel back at Daisaku.

Kurari and Shouta Iwasa were doubles partners, usually playing in the Doubles Two slot for the Hida tennis team. Because of that, most of Kurari's practice time was spent with Iwasa. Iwasa was a strong player himself, but he was also notorious for being the laziest player on the Hida roster.

The towel Kurari had stolen landed on the bench next to Daisaku. He gave it a suspicious glance. Daisaku couldn't help but feel a little repulsed by the idea of using the same towel as someone else to dry off his sweat. Sighing again, he pushed himself up off the bench and grabbed the towel, meaning to return it to one of Ando-sensei's supply boxes. Behind him, he heard another piercing, dry laugh from Kurari. "Well anyway, looks like I got you good and warmed up, Daisaku!"

Daisaku's legs throbbed painfully as he walked to the supply boxes, but he didn't challenge Kurari's comment. Honestly, Daisaku was happier with his current exhaustion than he would have been with a more normal warm-up. He still had at least a few hours until he would have to play, time for the soreness to abate. And anyway, Daisaku played his best tennis when he was tired.

Skill was important in tennis, of course. But in Daisaku's mind, skill was only half of what a player needed if he wanted to win. The other half was determination. Really great players, all the ones Daisaku had seen, weren't great because of their skill. A player was great because, when it came down to the end of a match, he refused to lose. He fought for every point, went to the limit of his abilities, and then pushed himself past that limit.

That was the sort of player Daisaku wanted to be. He knew he needed to improve his skills too. He didn't have Tetsuya's speed or Sunama's control. He couldn't put the same sort of spin on a ball as Seiichi. Daisaku wasn't the best player on the Hida team; he probably wasn't even the third or forth best player. But he had an impressive win record, and because of that record he held Hida's Singles Three position. And the reason for all that was very simple.

Daisaku didn't like to lose.

There was a lot more to tennis than just mastery of the basic skills. There was being able to focus yourself. There was refusing to give in, even when your opponent seemed unbeatable. Tennis wasn't just physical. It was mental. Spiritual.

"A lot like kendo, I suppose…"

As Daisaku tossed the towel into one of the boxes, Seiichi jogged up looking as energetic as he always did, a manic smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Daisaku, did you see that team in black?" Seiichi flung an arm wildly over his shoulder, pointing at the now-vacant courts that, Daisaku thought, had been filled when the Hida team arrived.

"Uh, no, not really. Sorry, Seiichi. Why, something special about them?"

Seiichi's eyes opened wide in shock, as if he couldn't believe Daisaku's ignorance. "You've got to be kidding! You didn't notice them? That was Fudomine, Daisaku! You know, Fudomine!"

Daisaku stared at Seiichi for a second and then gave a nod. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Fudomine." Daisaku had no idea who Fudomine was, but his answer seemed to be enough. Seiichi was talking again, rambling about the black-jerseyed team. Daisaku glanced around the courts, not really paying any attention to what Seiichi was saying. Seiichi had been like this, prone to dramatic rambling, since Daisaku had first met him in elementary school. But the two of them had been friends for six years now, and Daisaku had learned to deal with Seiichi's histrionics. Smile and nod; that usually seemed to keep Seiichi happy. It didn't shut him up, but in those six years Daisaku still hadn't found **anything** that would shut him up when Seiichi really started rambling.

A loud voice brought Daisaku's attention around. At the head of the stairs leading up from the tennis courts, Ando-sensei was standing with one hand raised and motioning for the Hida players to gather around him. Daisaku gritted his teeth and began to jog toward Hida's tennis club advisor, fighting off the pain from his still-aching legs. Seiichi loped after him easily, still going on about that Fudomine team. Daisaku continued to ignore him.

When the Hida team had gathered, a wall of sky-blue-and-black uniforms, Ando-sensei called them to attention. Seiichi finally shut up as the team bowed in unison. Then, with a quick glance at his watch, Ando-sensei began to speak to the assembled players.

"Okay, everyone, listen up. It's eight forty. Opening ceremony starts in twenty minutes, so we need to get to Court One and get lined up. You know the drill: just act the same as you did at Tokai, same as at Gifu. Only difference is that there are more people watching today." Ando's eyes clouded over for a moment, and he fixed his gaze on Shouta Iwasa, slouching next to Kurari. "Though now that I think about it…."

Daisaku saw a flash of bright green streak through the air between Ando and Iwasa. There was a loud thump, and the streak of color ricocheted into the air. It seemed to take a few seconds for the team to realize what happened. But then Iwasa started rubbing his forehead and complaining in his distinctive drawl. "Aaawwwh! Wha's that for? Why'd ya go an' try to clobber me with a freakin' tennis…"

Ando waited just long enough for Iwasa's whine to start, and then rode right over him, picking up where he had left off. "Now that I think about it, some of you had better NOT act like you did at Tokai and Gifu. If I hear one more person tell me that a player started **snoring** in the middle of the opening speeches, or kicking the ankles of other players…."

Iwasa called back, his voice indignant. "I asked ya before, how'd'ya think a guy's supposed ta fall asleep, standin' up in the middle o' his team. I ain't been snorin' thru these stupid speeches, no matter how frickin' borin' they are. A guy just don't fall asleep like that. Now will ya please git offa my case?" He folded his arms across his chest and gave a very self-satisfied nod.

Next to Iwasa, Kurari piped up in his too-high voice. "I don't know how you can fall asleep standing up either, Shouta. But I know you can. There ain't no other way to explain that last match we played at Tokai. Crap, I don't think I've seen anyone miss that many shots since… Since you, in the Gifu finals." And then to Ando-sensei, "Can we just drop Shouta off the roster, Sensei? Let me cover the whole doubles court? I'll bet we do better."

There were chuckles from most of the other Hida players. Iwasa himself, however, chose to respond by driving his fist into Kurari's shoulder. The punch seemed to be playful, but Daisaku thought it looked like it genuinely hurt as well.

Ando-sensei spoke again, bringing the team back to silence. "Anyway! We're going to head over to Court One now and take our places. Unless anyone has any questions before we go?"

Seiichi's hand flew up so fast that Daisaku heard a whistle of rushing air. He turned and stared at his friend with some apprehension. Seiichi seemed a little too excited; his legs twitched slightly as if only sheer willpower was keeping him from bouncing up and down on his toes.

Ando regarded Seiichi with the same wariness Daisaku was feeling. "Yes, what is it Kamishimizu?"

A grin split Seiichi's face in two and he actually did begin bouncing as he asked his question. "Did you see that other team, Ando-sensei? That was Fudomine! They looked really strong. I want to play them!"

Ando's eyes narrowed. He swept his gaze over the rest of the team, studiously ignoring Seiichi now. "Okay then, since there aren't any questions, let's get moving! Iwasa, Kawakami, stack our supply boxes by the stairs here. We'll pick them up on the way back to the hotel this afternoon. They should be fine in the interim." The Doubles Two pair, Shouta and Kurari, complied with Ando-sensei's request, albeit sullenly. "Now, everybody follow me!" Spinning with military precision, Ando led the Hida players up the stairs and back to the network of paths snaking through the Arena Tennis complex.

Daisaku followed a couple meters back, walking behind Hirohito Ito, Hida's team captain. Hirohito was talking in a low voice with Kazuki Sunama, who seemed to be scanning a small, blue notebook as he conversed with Hirohito. Daisaku found his attention suddenly focusing on the notebook.

It was the same one Sunama had been looking through when Daisaku had come to fetch Seiichi the afternoon before. Daisaku was sure of it. Sunama had been carrying that notebook everywhere since arriving in Tokyo. More and more, Daisaku wondered what might be in it. Yesterday, he had been sure it was just tennis data, but Sunama seemed especially attached to this notebook. Could it be something personal, maybe? Daisaku sped up his pace slightly, hoping to get a closer look over Sunama's shoulder.

Trying his best to be unobtrusive, Daisaku edged closer to Hirohito and Sunama. He could just see the corner of the blue notebook. It seemed to have some sort of pattern sketched on it, but Daisaku couldn't tell if it was a drawing, a graph, or just Sunama's own small, precise penmanship. Just a little closer and he would be able to make it out.

And then, before Daisaku could blink, Sunama flipped the notebook shut and stowed it in a pocket on his racket case. Sunama didn't seem hurried, but he moved with such practiced efficiency that Daisaku never managed to see more than that one little corner of the page. Now that notebook was going to bother him all day. What _did_ Sunama keep reading?

The tree-lined paths of the Arena Tennis Complex wound gradually to the south, until a view opened ahead, revealing a grid of genuine stadium-style courts. And in the center stood a tall, half-roofed structure: Court One. It dominated Daisaku's vision, and his attention, as soon as it came into view. That was where the key matches of the tournament would be held. Hida wouldn't be playing there, not unless they made it to at least the third round, but even so it inspired a measure of anxiety in Daisaku. He had played at Tokai, and played well enough, winning more than half of his matches. But the crowd there had been smaller, and the courts hadn't been half as public as even the peripheral stadium courts here. Court One, though, looked big enough to seat every player in this tournament, with plenty of room to spare. Which, come to think of it, was probably what would happen. No one would want to miss watching the final matches of the tournament tomorrow. Certainly, whether they won or lost, no one in the Hida team would consider going home without watching the tournament play out to its conclusion.

Still, the thought of playing under all those watching eyes….

Daisaku was still brooding as the Hida players filed into the towering stadium. Ando-sensei led them briskly past the ramps leading to spectator seating, until he found the path to the court proper. The Hida team filed behind him, and came to a stop as he did, just short of the exit onto the court.

Ando-sensei made a quick glance at his watch, and then addressed the players in a decisive voice, but one meant not to carry into the stadium. "All right, eight fifty-five. Line yourselves up and get out there. Remember! We're here to hit. Don't worry about the crowd, don't worry about the other teams. Keep your head focused on that."

As Ando was talking, the team began to reorganize itself, forming up according to class and roster. The upperclassmen all came first: Hirohito and Tetsuya, as captain and vice-captain, took the lead, with Shouta behind them, slouching as ever. After him, Seiichi and Sunama as Singles One and Two. Daisaku fell in behind Sunama, and Kurari took position behind him, at the end of the line.

"We're here to hit, we're here for tennis. The rest doesn't matter. Remember that and you'll be fine." Ando-sensei slapped Hirohito on the back, and Hida's captain began a slow, steady march onto the court. Many of the teams were already arrayed out there, though not all of them, Daisaku could see. There were gaps among the lines of players. Tetsuya followed behind Hirohito, who seemed very sure of his destination, a space near the front beside a team in white and blue uniforms. Shouta began trailing Tetsuya, still in his usual slouch, but Ando-sensei gave him a swift kick to the shins and barked, "No snoring, either, Iwasa!" Shouta shot the club advisor a murderous look, but even he seemed to feel the gravity of the situation; Shouta squared his shoulders and stood up straighter, which gave him surprising height, almost on par with Seiichi and Daisaku.

Daisaku swallowed, which took some effort, and found that he was now at the front himself, with Sunama already in a stately march ahead of him. At his ear, Daisaku suddenly heard Ando-sensei's voice, calm, quiet, and unhurried. "Don't worry, Yamaguchi. You'll do fine. For now, just watch. And listen." With that, Ando slapped him across the shoulders, and Daisaku lurched out onto the court, doing his best to mirror Sunama's gait.

The queue came to a halt just right of center, facing some scaffolding erected solely for the opening addresses. Daisaku could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, but some of the other teams were still filing out into the court, so he let his eyelids fall closed and took the chance to steady his breathing and focus his energy under his diaphragm. Gradually, he felt his pulse come back under control. When Daisaku reopened his eyes, a gray-haired man in a black suit was ascending to the podium to address the now-assembled teams.

The man approached the podium's microphone and then intoned, "The 34th Annual All-Japan Junior High Tennis Tournament is officially open." All of the assembled players, as well as the man on the podium, bowed formally. The gray-haired man stepped back, turned, and left the stage even as another man, younger, was approaching the podium. Through the stadium's audio system, a feminine voice announced the current speaker as the director of the Japanese National Junior High Tennis League. The players bowed again, and as they straightened, the speaker launched into a formal address. Daisaku quickly put the speaker out of mind. He'd heard much the same speech at the Tokai tournament, and at the Gifu prefectural tournament before that. It was little more than a formal pep rally speech, "do your best" dressed up in more flowery language. Thankfully, it was over soon enough, and the teams were dismissed to prepare for their respective matches.

As the assembly broke up, the Hida team turned as one to go back the way they had came, only to see Ando-sensei standing a little ways off from the exit, on the sidelines of the court. He waved them over and, instinctively, the whole team broke into a jog to reach him. Daisaku's hamstrings protested, still burning from his practice with Kurari, but he shoved the pain to the back of his mind and stayed in step with the others. Daisaku stopped with the rest of the team, arrayed in a semi-circle around the coach. Hirohito barked out a short command, and everyone gave a quick bow to Ando-sensei.

Ando flipped open a spiral notebook and ran his finger down one of the pages, as if searching for some particular information. His finger stopped, and his head snapped up to regard the team. "Okay, first round matches start in fifteen minutes. That's not a lot of time, so let's review the schedule fast. First: Hirohito, Tetsuya. Who are you watching in the first round?"

Daisaku's attention turned to the team captain and vice-captain. Tetsuya, usually so quick to respond, wore a dark expression and stood a couple steps back from his brother. Hirohito answered quickly, though. "Osaka Tennoji and Rokkaku."

"Right," returned Ando, "And we play the winner of that match, so make sure you keep a good eye on their play styles. Tennoji and Rokkaku will be on court seven. That's where we'll be playing too, next round. So everyone, when the matches you're watching finish, go to court seven! Let Hirohito know what happened. Now, you two, get over there and watch!" Ando-sensei stabbed a finger at the opening the team had entered through, and the Ito twins jumped into a fast jog, heading for the Tennoji / Rokkaku match. "Next: Iwasa and Kawakami!"

Shouta Iwasa seemed oddly energized for once, as if the impending tournament had fanned some spark of life to new flame. He stepped forward, surprisingly, and his usual slouch was hardly noticeable. "We've got Miyake 'n Doshisha, sensei. Don' worry. We'll make sure they ain't got no s'prises fer us."

Shouta shot the club advisor a grin that looked both insolent and predatory, and Ando-sensei, surprisingly, grinned back. "Glad to hear it, Iwasa. You and Kawakami will be on court four. That's just north of here. Now get over there! Next: Kamishimizu and Yamaguchi!"

Even as Seiichi was stepping forward to answer, the Doubles Two pair darted off, Kurari squeaking inquisitively at Shouta. Shouta's response was to slug Kurari in the shoulder again, prompting a yelp, although neither player's steps slowed until they were out of sight. Meanwhile, Seiichi was giving a crisp response to Ando-sensei. "We have Nagoya AIT versus Hyotei, Ando-sensei."

Ando nodded. "Court eight. I don't expect the match will last all that long, but see what you can learn. We'll be playing AIT again in the second round, and they were our hardest opponents at Tokai. I don't want to go home after losing to a team we already beat. Now move it!"

Daisaku and Seiichi gave quick bows and started off at a run for the court's exit, leaving Ando-sensei and Sunama talking together. Daisaku's legs still felt like lead, but he thought maybe the pain was starting to fade a little. Maybe. But there was still plenty of time before the second round, time for him to rest.

Off the court, the concrete hallways of the stadium seemed more crowded than they had just a few minutes ago, when the Hida team filed in. Still, in a short time Daisaku and Seiichi had wound their way out into the open air. Daisaku spotted a signboard telling the locations of the courts and jogged over, Seiichi right on his heels. Skidding to a stop in front of the board, Daisaku began a focused search for court eight.

Seiichi's voice was sharp, cutting through Daisaku's concentration. "I don't think this match is going to be as simple as Ando-sensei says. Sunama talked to me yesterday, when we were going up to our hotel room. He told me a bit more about Hyotei." Surprise must have etched Daisaku's face at the prospect of Sunama volunteering information. Seiichi paused a moment for the words to register with Daisaku, and then continued. "They lost in the first round of the Kanto tournament, but they lost to the champions, Seigaku. And the match went six sets; I looked into it a little myself last night. AIT was strong, but this Hyotei might be a match for them, whatever Ando-sensei says. I know Sunama thinks they might win."

That was enough for Daisaku. Sunama was rarely, if ever, wrong about these things, and the Hida team had learned to pay close attention to anything he had to say. "Okay then, Seiichi. We'll stake 'em both out." Returning his attention to the map board, Daisaku traced his finger along until he found the eighth court, and then nodded to himself. "First things first, though. We need to get over to Eight if we're gonna watch, and Eight is clear over there." With a throwing motion, Daisaku indicated a place on the far side of the Court One stadium.

Seiichi simply nodded his head and broke into a jog around the south side of the stadium. Daisaku didn't hesitate, jumping into motion himself and jogging beside his friend. Still, it took nearly five minutes to get to court eight, and another five to push through the crowds and find a place to sit and observe the match. By the time Daisaku eased himself onto the bench, glad to relax his legs again, the AIT players and their Hyotei counterparts were already filing out onto the court.

Nagoya AIT was dressed in the forest green jerseys Daisaku remembered from the Tokai tournament. He recognized most of the players in the AIT line, though one or two faces might have been new since Tokai. AIT had a deep roster, and some of the players who lost at the regional tournament might have been replaced by other players of a similar level. A tall, long-haired player on the end of the line nearest Daisaku, however, was very familiar. Yuutaro Kusamaru had been Daisaku's opponent at Tokai, probably the strongest opponent Daisaku had ever played, excepting members of his own Hida team.

The match against Kusamaru at Tokai had been grueling. Daisaku had been lucky; his service game had been very clean and, despite having to make a tough fight of it a couple times, he had managed to avoid giving Kusamaru a single break point opportunity. Daisaku himself had been pressed just as hard by the other player's serve. He had only seen one break chance in the entire set, late in the tenth game. He had managed to convert it, to everyone's surprise, including his own. That break had been enough to win Daisaku the set, and in the end, to give Hida the Tokai championship. If AIT had kept their roster in roughly the same order, Kusamaru would probably be playing the first set, as the Nagoya Singles Three.

The two teams, now lined up, greeted each other and bowed. Six of the seven players on each team filed off the court and took up places to watch the match. As expected, Kusamaru turned instead toward the play bench and retrieved his racket from a black tennis bag. Opposite him, the Hyotei player did the same. Hyotei's singles three was dressed in the same blue-sleeved white jersey as the rest of his team, with a blue baseball cap turned backwards and covering very short black hair. Hyotei fished a Yonex racquet from his bag and came back to meet his opponent at the net.

Kusamaru rested his racquet head on the ground. "Which," he asked, already spinning the racquet and letting it drop.

"Smooth," called Hyotei's blue-cap, balancing his racket so it stood on the tip of his index finger.

Kusamaru's racquet clattered to the ground, and he bent to pick it up. "Oh, too bad. Looks like its rough. I'll serve first." Kusamaru shot a smile at the chair judge and scooped up his racquet. He turned his smile, now a bit more toothy, toward the Hyotei player, but blue-cap was already striding to the back-court to take his position. Slightly deflated, Kusamaru turned and walked back to his own service line.

As Kusamaru reached his line and turned, the voice of the chair judge rang out across the stadium. "Aichi Institute of Technology Daifuzoku versus Hyotei Gakuen. The best of one set match. Nagoya AIT to serve!" A hush fell over the crowd at the judge's words, and every eye turned to Kusamaru. The AIT player tossed the ball high overhead and bent back, following its trajectory with his eyes. Then, uncoiling like a spring, he snapped erect and cracked his racket in a downward arc. The ball shot across the net and into Hyotei's service court. Blue-cap stood poised on his toes, his racket centered. He watched as the ball zoomed toward the outside corner of the court, and lunged after it, stretching his racket in front of him. But not fast enough. Kusamaru's serve rebounded off the hard surface of the court and bounced away before Hyotei could get under it. "Fifteen, love."

Daisaku didn't blink. He still remembered facing Kusamaru's serve. Tokai had only been a few months ago. The AIT player had a stunning arm, and it had taken Daisaku almost two full games to master getting under those serves well enough to return them with any degree of accuracy. That the Hyotei player fared no better didn't surprise him at all.

Hyotei himself seemed unfazed. He shrugged his racket up to his shoulder, turned, and strode toward the opposite side of his court without even pausing to look at where the ball had gone. When he had reached the other side, blue-cap squared his stance again and stared across the net at Kusamaru.

Again, Kusamaru tossed a ball in the air. It flew straight up and hung for a moment, suspended, until the AIT player's racket careened into it. The ball flew, pointed this time at the center line. But as it crossed the net, Daisaku could hear a faint popping noise, and the ball's trajectory shifted. It hit nearer the center of the service court, and flew past the Hyotei player's head. Again, the voice of the chair judge boomed over the crowd. "Let. First serve, again."

Undeterred, Kusamaru lobbed another ball into the air and came crashing down on it with all the force he could muster. The serve looked faster than anything Daisaku had faced at Tokai. Kusamaru must have used the intervening months to work on training his speed. The ball crossed the net, with centimeters to spare this time, and came down just where the last one should have, at the middle corner of the service court. It was a beautiful serve. Even Seiichi must be impressed by that. Daisaku turned his eyes toward the chair judge, waiting for the call.

He wasn't disappointed. The judge's voice rang out only a moment later.

"Fifteen all."

Daisaku's breath caught, and he turned back to the courts. Kusamaru was standing just where Daisaku had last seen him, but Hyotei was in the middle of the backcourt, his legs stretched in a lunge and his racket pointing straight at the AIT player. Daisaku thought he could just make out a smile creasing blue-cap's lips, the first expression he'd seen on the Hyotei player. Blue-cap's voice called out in the quiet after the call. "Next."

A hush had come over the crowd. As Hyotei moved to receive again, Daisaku heard the watching AIT players begin to whisper incredulously to one another. Kusamaru himself seemed to regard the return ace as an aberration, and tossed another ball into the air as soon as blue-cap was in position. This serve was aimed for the center of the service court, probably to give Kusamaru more leeway in case power cost him some accuracy. The ball flew a bit to Hyotei's right, putting it close to the outside edge of the court. Daisaku focused his eyes on the Hyotei player. He was in motion the moment the ball left Kusamaru's racket, moving up to a position just past the point where the ball would bound up. So it would be a rising shot. Daisaku nodded to himself unconsciously. His suspicion was confirmed as blue-cap swung his racket in an upward arc, starting from the level of his calf. The racket connected just as it came parallel to Hyotei's body, and the ball, now loaded with topspin, flashed back across the net. This time, Kusamaru was watching for it, but Hyotei's return came back almost as fast as the original serve, and even as the AIT player stretched to intercept the ball, it sped past him. "Fifteen, thirty."

Kusamaru was moving stiffly now. He lobbed a ball and reached back, mustering all the force he could. His racket slammed home, and the ball sped like it had been shot from a cannon. It cleared the net, bounced, and… again, flew by the Hyotei player, who was standing rooted to the spot. There was some brief commotion near the chair, and then the judge's voice called out, "Fault." Blue-cap nodded slightly, as if confirming the call to himself. The serve must have hit long, but not by much. Daisaku hadn't been able to see the error from where he sat.

A low growl emerged from Kusamaru's throat as he tossed his second serve into the air. Again, he tried to bring as much force down behind the ball as he could, and again, the ball leapt away with phenomenal speed. This time, Hyotei was moving, advancing to near the edge of the service court, preparing to catch the ball just after it bounced. But at the net, the ball struck the tape with a loud thwack and bounced ponderously to the ground. "Double fault. Fifteen, fourty."

Silence, now, from everyone including the AIT players. Hyotei's footsteps were audible as he paced back to the other side of the court and, once again, took up position to receive Kusamaru's serve. Without hesitating, Kusamaru let fly. He wasn't trying for his fastest, this time. He aimed for the outside corner again, the one that had netted him that first service ace. But blue-cap stepped up, as before, and sent the ball back cross-court. This seemed to be what Kusamaru had expected. The AIT player was already in motion, rushing toward the center-line to intercept the shot. He caught it and spun it back toward the middle of Hyotei's backcourt. Blue-cap had to dash to reach it in time, and caught the ball with a desperate lunge, but catch it he did.

The ball flew up in a long arc toward Kusamaru's baseline. With his eyes trained overhead, the AIT player paced backwards, tracing the ball, his racquet poised behind his back, ready to deliver a smash. Just as the ball came to about serve height, Kusamaru's arm slammed forward. The ball zoomed back across, to the same spot where Kusamaru's serve had just struck, on the outside corner of the service court.

But blue-cap seemed to be a step ahead. As Kusamaru's eyes descended, along with his racquet, they fell on the Hyotei player standing balanced to return the smash. The ball came toward blue-cap, and now Daisaku was sure he could see a smile on his face. Again, the same rising shot motion, and the ball went back across the net with all the speed of Kusamaru's smash. It bounced centimeters from the toe of Kusamaru's right shoe and crashed into the wall behind him.

There was half-second pause as the chair judge gathered his breath, in which not a sound could be heard from the crowd. Then, "Game, Ryou Shishido. One game to zero, Hyotei lead."

A droning filled the stadium, like a hundred bees all buzzing in unison, in some minor key. "Hyo-tei! Hyo-tei! Hyo-tei! Hyo-tei!"

Suddenly, Daisaku wondered just how wrong Ando-sensei might have been.


	4. Imitation

A Brief Introduction by the Author

This chapter, the fourth, will continue looking at the first-round matches and what they may mean for the Hida team. Chapter Four follows Yuuya Kawakami, better known as Kurari, as he does his own reconnaissance. In keeping with the last two chapters, we'll highlight him in this installments OC spotlight.

**Yuya "Kurari" Kawakami (2nd year)** - Kurari is a member of Hida's Doubles Two team, with Shouta Iwasa. Kurari stands on the bottom rung of the Hida tennis team, but he has his own unique talents that make him no slouch on the court. When Kurari isn't playing tennis, he spends his time practicing _taiko_ (Japanese drumming). His favorite time of year is spring, when Hida City has one of it's yearly festivals, also associated with drums. The kid just has a thing for drums. He is of average height and average build and is, in terms of appearance, quite average. Kurari looks a bit like Rokkaku's Marehiko Itsuki, especially his nose. (The real Kurari is a member of the taiko club at my school and plays one mean drum, I can tell you)

_Play Style_: Counter-Puncher  
_Plays_: Right-handed  
_Height_: 173cm  
_Weight_: 53kg  
_Blood Type_: A  
_Birthday_: 14 April

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 4 – Imitation_

* * *

"Ouch! Shouta, stop it! LEGGO!" 

Yuuya flailed his arms, and felt his right fist collide painfully against the concrete bench. Shouta held him in a headlock, with an arm twined tight around Yuuya's throat. Yuuya felt pressure building behind his eyes, and wondered how much longer he'd be able to endure this before he passed out.

Shouta seemed to be having similar thoughts. With a final twist that Yuuya felt sure would snap his neck, Shouta shoved him away and sprawled back against the row of benches behind the seats he and Yuuya had taken. Rubbing his throat, Yuuya turned angrily toward his doubles partner, but Shouta had already gone back to watching the match through heavy-lidded eyes.

"You FREAK! What'd you go an' do that for, Shouta?" Yuuya's high-pitched shout drowned out the steady rhythm of stroke-counterstroke coming from the tennis court below.

"Will ya shut it alrea'y, Kurari," Shouta muttered. "You're makin' it hard fer these good folks to watch the match, y'know." He flung an arm limply, indicating the crowd which was, by now, staring at the two of them. Despite that crowd being packed shoulder-to-shoulder, a circle about one meter wide had opened up around the two Hida players. No one seemed willing to sit within arm's reach of Shouta.

"Me? MEE?" Yuuya tried to control his voice; he knew he was too loud, but he just couldn't seem to stop shouting. "Shouta, you frickin'-"

And that was all he got out, because Shouta, moving like a viper, had put the headlock back around his neck. It was probably calculated. Shouta had probably given Yuuya just enough time to regain his breath before going back on the offensive. Shouta looked like a delinquent, but Yuuya had played doubles with him for more than a year now and he had come to learn that behind the façade was a first-rate mind. Shouta was startlingly aware of how other people perceived things. Shouta's own image was calculated to make other people underestimate him, and to ensure that even when he showed some of his true ability, they kept underestimating him.

All this passed through Yuuya's mind in the few seconds it took for Shouta to strangle the life out of him. Again.

Just as Yuuya felt sure he was going to pass out, he heard an insistent hiss, Shouta's voice in his ear. The voice Shouta only used with him: smooth and canny. Vulpine. "You've been watching, Kurari. You know this match is a farce. Whoever wins here is going to play Nara's Todaiji Gakuen next round, and I don't believe a seeded school could lose to either of these teams. Anyway, the winner of that match should be facing Rikkai in the quarter finals, and Rikkai would never lose to a team at this level. Never. This match is a joke, and you know it, Kurari. Now, I'm going to stay here and watch, because I promised Ando-sama that I would. Why don't you see if you can go find out something USEFUL for us?"

Yuuya's vision was going dark. Shouta shoved him away roughly and Yuuya toppled, his head striking the concrete bench and making him cry out in pain. As he struggled to sit back up, Shouta slugged him in the shoulder and pitched his voice louder again, for their audience. "Jes' frickin' leave it, Kurari. Now, 'm a mite thirsty, so why'nt you go an' get me a coke or somethin'?" Shouta's eyes bored holes in Yuuya's skull.

Standing, Yuuya peevishly snatched his racquet case and returned Shouta's glare. He gave the barest hint of a nod, though, and Shouta's eyes relaxed for a fraction of a second. Then the older player was back, sprawled against the bench behind him, arms draped over the seats and slitted eyes watching the (yes, Yuuya had to admit, meaningless) game in front of him. Yuuya slung the racquet case across his back and stomped toward the steps leading out of the tennis arena, a cloud of anger masking his face.

Even Yuuya himself was no longer sure how much of that anger was real and how much was just a part of Shouta's little show.

Slipping out the gate of court four, Yuuya reached over his shoulder, unzipped the case, and drew out his racquet, a gray Mizuno Perceval. His left hand darted into his pocket and retrieved a faded yellow tennis ball. The ball was covered in drawings, black felt-tip sketches of notes and drums, and blocky characters interspersed between them, spelling out the name "Ryuujin Daiko". Yuuya smiled for a fleeting second, and tossed the ball into the air. As it fell, Yuuya swept his racquet underneath and caught it, dead center on the wire mesh, without letting it bounce.

Holding the racquet steady, Yuuya glanced around, looking for a vending machine where he could buy a drink for Shouta. Yuuya wouldn't return for a while yet, but he'd need to bring something for Shouta when he did. There weren't any machines in sight, so Yuuya set off at a slow walk, south toward Court One. There would have to be places he could buy a soda around the center court, anyway.

As he walked, Yuuya flicked his right wrist upward, sending the marked ball back into the air. It flew a little higher than his head. Yuuya spun his wrist as the ball descended to catch it on the reverse face of the racquet. The ball rebounded, to the exact same height, before falling again. Yuuya twisted his wrist so the original face pointed upwards, and tapped the ball once again. Back and fourth, he kept hitting the ball to the same height for nearly a minute as he walked. Then, suddenly, the ball's height changed, arcing a little above half its previous height. The strokes came faster now, up-down, up-down, up-down, and Kawakami had to spin his wrist smoothly to keep the ball on the correct trajectory. He looked past the ball and listened for a moment. Then another moment. The ball twanged off the taut strings of his racquet in an even rhythm, but that rhythm was not quite right.

The ball arced a fraction of a centimeter higher; the rhythm changed. The quick strokes were now exactly twice as fast as the slower ones he had been hitting earlier.

It was a difficult exercise, but it came naturally to Yuuya. He had been interested in taiko, the elaborate drumming usually seen at festivals and special events, since his last three years of elementary school. He'd started learning to play back then, with a group that taught children as well as adults: Ryuujin Daiko. It was hard, especially at first. His reflexes weren't developed well enough to beat out the rhythms correctly. But he kept working, and by the time Yuuya finished elementary school, he was allowed to play when the group performed for the public. Now, five years after he first started practicing, the rhythms came to him as naturally as breathing. When he took up tennis at Hida Junior High, Yuuya had found a concordance in the rhythms of play: the ball passing back and forth across the net, the players' shoes striking the court surface.

Alone, Yuuya often practiced like this, using his sense of timing to measure and control the motion of the ball. But today, he had a different purpose in mind than simple practice.

Yuuya had almost reached Court One now. This would be the center of activity as players moved from one match to another, watching to see who they might face later in the tournament. He ran his eyes over the grassy lawn that surrounded the stadium, and picked out a tree standing alone a few meters back from the slab-concrete walkway. Just close enough to attract attention. Just far enough not to demand it.

Pacing toward the tree, Yuuya changed the nature of his strokes yet again. Now, he would hit one high arc, followed by two short ones. His wrist stayed flat for the first rebound and then twisted after the two short strokes, giving a steady FRONT front-back, FRONT front-back rhythm.

At the tree, Yuuya turned and leaned his back against the rough trunk, facing the path that ran in front of Court One. The bark itched through the thin fabric of his tennis uniform, but Yuuya tried his best to ignore it. Now, he didn't have the counter-rhythm of his own walking to contend with. Now, Yuuya could move the drill up another notch.

Yuuya had learned a number of pieces with Ryuujin Daiko, but his favorite was a bit called Haru Ame. It was complex, but after five years practicing the piece, Yuuya could play it in his sleep. Or, as he would today, on the strings and frame of his racquet. Slipping his left hand into his pocket, Yuuya focused his attention on the racquet. He caught the ball on the strings and let it rest for a moment, before launching into the piece. The piece began with the three-beat rhythm he had just finished practicing, the FRONT front-back. From there, it moved into a complicated permutation of long and short beats, interspersed with _ka_, the notes played on the frame of the drum, which Yuuya played instead on the frame of his racquet.

The drill commanded most of Yuuya's attention. He was just able to recognize that a group of people, some of them wearing uniforms Yuuya had seen at the opening ceremony, had drawn up in an uneven rank along the edge of the walkway, watching him. Suddenly, on his left side, he heard a rhythm running counter to his, in the same tone of frame-and-strings. It distracted Yuuya for about eight seconds, in which time he came precariously close to dropping the ball, until he realized that the neighboring rhythm wasn't running counter so much as it was running late. Someone else had managed to slip up to the tree while Yuuya was absorbed in his drill, and was now beating out the same rhythm as he was, only a half-second behind.

Yuuya wanted nothing so much as to look over and see who he was playing with. He'd done this drill a few times around the courts at Hida Junior High, and some of the other second years had tried to play along a time or two. Sunama and Seiichi had never shown any interest, but even Daisaku had only lasted three measures before he was unable to keep up with Yuuya's rhythm. Whoever was playing now, he was good.

The piece came to a close, but instead of ending the drill, Yuuya went back to the three-beat, the foundation of most taiko pieces. After Haru Ame, maintaining this rhythm was simple, so he turned his attention to his unexpected partner.

The other player met Yuuya's gaze emotionlessly. There was an emptiness in his eyes, a void that somehow reminded Yuuya of his own doubles partner, Shouta. Looking into this boy's eyes felt like looking into a mirror. Above those eyes was a spiky mass of platinum blond hair, with a braided ponytail trailing in back. The other player wore an orange jersey with black stripes running down the shoulder.

Yuuya's breath caught, though only for a moment. Rikkai. Everyone knew the uniforms of the two-time All-Japan tournament champions, favorites again this year despite their loss at the Kanto competition. No real surprise that it would be a Rikkai player who was able to keep up with Yuuya's drill.

Rikkai's lips parted, and a soft voice slithered out. "Niou." He had altered the rhythm of the ball, now, so that it beat in time with Yuuya's. _Like a heartbeat_, he found himself thinking.

Yuuya gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Kurari. You play?"

"No."

Yuuya felt one of his eyebrows twitching upwards, and turned back to his racquet. Well then. He caught the ball again, in the center of his strings, timing his downstroke to decelerate the ball without letting it rebound. He waited to hear that Niou had done the same. Time to see how far he could push this.

Yuuya paused long enough to be sure Niou understood that the former drill was finished. Then, he returned to the three-beat rhythm. He waited for Niou to pick it up and counted four full measures, twenty-four beats.

In taiko there was an imitation drill, one of the more interesting forms of practice Yuuya had done. The group would all fall into a three-beat rhythm, and then one member would beat out something new, an improvisation, four measures long. The rest of the group would three-beat as they listened, and then play the improvised rhythm back. Then four more measures of three-beat, and a different member would take over, giving the next four-measure imitation-pattern. The drill was very intuitive; an advantage here.

Yuuya started with a simple improv. He switched from the three-beat pattern to the slow, steady beat he had begun with as he left court four. Four measures, sixteen beats. When he finished, he switched back to the underlying three-beat rhythm. Niou played an extra measure on three-beat before he took up the imitation; he probably hadn't figured out the four measure rotation yet. When he was finished, he went back to matching Yuuya's three-beat. Four more measures, and Yuuya gave him the double-speed, thirty-two beats in quick succession. Niou picked it up just as Yuuya dropped back to three-beat this time, and executed the pattern without a fault.

To the spectators watching along the pathway, and quite a crowd seemed to be forming now, Yuuya knew this must look easy. Certainly, it was still easier than playing Haru Ame, but Yuuya wanted to give the Rikkai player time to get used to the drill. But there was an added complexity to this drill that wasn't immediately obvious. Whenever one player went into an improv stretch, they had to contend with the fact that the other player was still sounding out the three-beat rhythm. It was surprisingly hard to run counter to that rhythm, and it made mirroring the improv pattern substantially harder.

Double-speed done, Yuuya's third pattern was simple enough. He reversed the three-beat so he was playing counter to Niou, front-back FRONT, front-back FRONT. Niou imitated it smoothly enough, and Yuuya gave a small nod in the Rikkai player's direction, indicating it was his turn.

Niou waited through four more measures of three-beat, and then launched into something new. Yuuya found himself smiling as soon as he recognized the pattern. Frame Front Frame front-back. It was a common enough rhythm in taiko, and it showed up for a few measures at the end of Haru Ame, probably why Niou had chosen it. Yuuya picked it up, and then came back with something still a little more complicated.

They played back and forth like this for perhaps six minutes, beating out increasingly complex patterns. Yuuya was surprised at how well the Rikkai player kept up, and at how far his own skills were being pushed. Niou was just launching into a complex pattern that worked in the spaces between the three-beat rhythm when a voice from the crowd cut through the drill. "Niou, stop fooling around."

The platinum-haired Rikkai player reached out and snagged his ball out of the air. A moment later, Yuuya did the same, and returned the black-marked tennis ball to his pocket. From Niou's expression, it seemed clear that the practice session was over.

Yuuya turned back toward the voice, and saw another player in the Rikkai uniform, this one tall, with glasses and darker blond hair, striding toward them. "Yagyuu." The look on Niou's face wasn't happy, but the name had the soft sound of a caress as he said it.

The crowd was starting to break up, now. Yuuya didn't mind. It had served its purpose.

Yagyuu stopped a few paces off and folded his arms, staring at Niou. Niou, for his part, adopted a wide, predatory grin. "Was just having a bit of fun, Hiroshi. No harm in that, is there? I take it you saw."

Yagyuu gave a curt nod. "As you say, Niou. Though as it happens, the captain would like to speak with you before he has his match. We can talk of this more, later."

He wasn't sure, but Yuuya had a nagging suspicion that something had just been communicated between the Rikkai players. Something he wasn't privy to.

Niou affected a pout, though his eyes still seemed to harbor some barely-checked anger. He glided over to Yagyuu and raised his hand, twining the sleeve of his teammate's jersey absently in his fingers. "You're going to spoil my fun, just like that. What could Seiichi possibly want to talk to me about?"

Yuuya experienced a moment of confusion. Why would Niou have anything to say to Seiichi. Unless…. Belatedly, he realized that Niou must be talking about his own team captain. Seiichi, Seiichi Kamishimizu, would probably get a kick out of that – the leader of the Rikkai squad shared the same name as him.

"Yukimura-san," Yagyuu said, stressing the surname, "didn't tell me what it was he wanted to discuss with you, Niou. But as Jackal's match is just finishing, I expect the captain will want to warm up soon. Which means it would be… impolite… for you to keep him waiting."

Niou hummed to himself and reached up, sliding Yagyuu's glasses off the bridge of his nose and taking them in hand. He made a study of them as he spoke, his voice a sultry growl. "And your match, Hiroshi? Did you…?" The hand holding Yagyuu's glasses tightened into a fist, and Yuuya thought he heard the distinctive crunch of breaking glass. But a moment later, Niou was slipping those same glasses, undamaged, onto Yagyuu's face, and hooking them behind his ears.

Pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger, Yagyuu stared at Niou for a moment before speaking. "Doubles two went… as expected." Yagyuu's voice was unruffled. Niou's games didn't seem to phase him.

"Yagyuu, you are positively the worst storyteller it's been my misfortune to know." That, delivered in a voice like a scolding mother, and accentuated with a mild slap. Niou chuckled, and spun back toward the tree, giving Yuuya an unreadable look. "Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Ku-ra-ri-kun!" He pronounced the name in a kind of sing-song as he danced backwards, waving. And then, with a smooth pirouette, Niou was jogging back toward Court One.

Yagyuu watched, until Niou was back inside the gates to Court One, before turning to Yuuya. "Kurari, is it?" The Rikkai player's eyes moved from his head to his feet and back again. Yuuya had the disconcerting feeling of being weighed and measured. Yagyuu's roaming gaze stopped as his eyes met Yuuya's own. "I apologize for Niou's behavior. He can be somewhat…" There was a pause, again. Yagyuu seemed to take great stock in the precision of his words. "…impish, at times. I trust he did not do anything untoward?"

A small smile crept onto Yuuya's face. This Yagyuu had begun the conversation for him. Miyake and Doshisha were out of the running, as Shouta had said. They would have no chance against a team of Rikkai's caliber. And Yuuya's luck had given him the chance to see a little of not just one but two Rikkai players. Anything he could learn here might prove useful, if Hida made it all the way to the semi-finals. Shouta had gone to great pains to teach Yuuya to gather information. Shouta could do it better himself, surely, but, he was absorbed in his own game, controlling how other people perceived him. In the year they'd played doubles together, this had become something of a system between them. Shouta was the image everyone saw. Yuuya was the mirror, seeing and reflecting.

Yagyuu seemed to set great store in decorum, so Yuuya modulated his usual tone. "Not especially, no. I was just running through a drill of mine. He came up and mimicked the drill. It was a welcome diversion. No one else on the Hida team can do that." A lie, but a small one. The players who probably could, had never tried. "Anyway, I expect that was why the crowd formed – Rikkai players must draw a lot of attention, after the last two years, and your Niou seems to be something of a showman." He was fishing, but Yuuya wanted to put the conversation on Rikkai, so he could learn more.

Yagyuu gave him a shrewd look before responding. "A showman, yes, but your… drill… appeared to be the sort of thing that would catch his interest. Maybe not just his. Where did you learn it, exactly?" It seemed this interview would go both ways.

"Hobbies. Tennis is not the only thing I do. Everyone has hobbies, of one sort or another. Some people like to… play games," that for Niou. "Some people like to study," a safe bet for Yagyuu. "I play the drums." No more than he had told Niou, with the drill.

Yagyuu nodded. "There is another team in this tournament: Fudomine. They have a player, I believe his name is Akira Kamio. He also enjoys music. You might find his play style similar to your own. I cannot be sure." Deflection. And then, almost as an afterthought, "We defeated Fudomine at the Kanto tournament." An open challenge.

"I doubt there are many teams here that Rikkai hasn't beaten, at one time or another. Though you only took second yourselves at Kanto? I doubt anyone expected that. But your captain, Yukimura I believe you said, I'd heard he wasn't able to play there." To be honest, Yuuya wouldn't have known any of this three months ago, but since the end of the Kanto games, Ando-sensei had been doing his best to give the Hida team profiles on any of the teams they might face at the national tournament. Rikkai had been a priority among them, since it was almost a sure bet they would make it into the final rounds. If Hida could make it that far, Rikkai was a likely opponent.

"Yes, Kanto was regrettable. We were surprised. We don't mean to let it happen twice. Where did you say you were from again, Kurari? Hida? I've heard your team did its own fair share of surprising, in Tokai. Your singles team, especially." Yagyuu's voice was tinged with a hint of curiosity.

It sounded like a jab to Yuuya. If Yagyuu knew the singles squad, he knew the doubles squad, which meant he knew that Yuuya and Shouta had lost in the finals. That match had been a sore point. Yuuya felt anger begin to well up, and he tried to squash it back down. "Yes, Yamaguchi played well. He kept us alive." There was a bite in Yuuya's voice that he hadn't expected.

Yagyuu raised a hand to his chin and adopted a considering pose. Then, his eyes blinked, as if the Rikkai player had watched a lynch-pin fall into place. "Well, Kurari, it's been a pleasure talking with you. I hope you and your team can be as surprising here as you were in Tokai. It might be interesting to meet you in the semifinals. Assuming you can get past Hyotei." A small smile twitched the corners of Yagyuu's mouth, the first he had shown.

Yuuya's mind was suddenly frantic. He had expected this verbal fencing to continue for at least a few more minutes. What had Yagyuu gleaned from the conversation? He tried to keep his voice smooth as he replied. "I agree. I think I would enjoy the chance to play against last year's champions. Thank you."

With a small nod, Yagyuu took his leave. Yuuya hardly noticed, lost in his thoughts. What had he said?

Yamaguchi. Daisaku Yamaguchi. _Damn it. I hate him. I hate losing to Daisaku. He gets the Singles spot. I'm always stuck in Doubles._ Nevermind that Yuuya actually enjoyed playing Doubles with Shouta, despite all appearances. This was about pride. _I'm as good as he is. I know it. I'm just as fast, just as strong, just as skilled. Why can't I get a chance at singles?_ A pause, a heartbeat; Yuuya tried avoid the next question, but he couldn't. _Why can't I BEAT him?_

And Tokai, the match against Nagoya AIT. The loss. Yuuya tried to pin it on Shouta. He knew Shouta didn't deserve that. He knew he was being petty and small-minded whenever he shifted the blame. Because he knew that it wasn't Shouta's fault, no matter how it might have appeared. Yuuya had lost that match, and he hadn't even lost it on the courts. He'd lost it bragging to some unknown player on the first day of the Tokai tournament. Bragging about how he and Shouta could beat anyone. Bragging about HOW he and Shouta could beat anyone. He'd said too much about their game. And then he'd seen the face he bragged to, staring at him across the net, wearing the uniform of a Nagoya AIT player. He had said something stupid, without thinking, and it had cost Hida the Doubles Two set, had almost cost them the championship. And Yuuya couldn't face the fact, even now, that he had failed, failed the team.

Before, Hirohito and Tetsuya had always been there to catch Hida, even if Yuuya and Shouta managed to fall. Losing wasn't that big a deal. And with Sunama and Seiichi to round out the roster, Hida only needed to win once on doubles to take any team match. But at Tokai, Tetsuya and Hiro had lost, the only time Yuuya had seen it happen. And that left Hida down two sets, with only singles left.

_Daisaku surprised everyone. Damn him. We thought we were done. We thought we were second place. But he kept us alive, and…_

And then Yuuya saw it. He kept us alive. Those four words communicated the entirety of Hida's lineup at Tokai. Doubles 2 was cut down. Doubles 1 was stopped. But Daisaku won Singles 3, and Singles 2 and Singles 1 fell to Sunama and Seiichi, like they always did.

Hida's lineup hadn't changed. Hida's players still expected to play their matches the same way they had played them at Tokai: try to win one of the first three sets, and let Sunama and Seiichi clean up the rest. And Yuuya had just told the Rikkai team all of this, in four little words. Yuuya's throat seized up.

It was Tokai all over again.

There was something else. There was another piece. Yuuya was still missing something. He had been too rattled, Yagyuu had said something. At the end.

Hyotei.

Hyotei was… they were the team playing Nagoya AIT, right now. It took Yuuya a moment to remember. They were the team Seiichi was watching. And Daisaku. But Ando-sensei had sounded sure that AIT would win that match. Except Yagyuu had spoken like a Hyotei victory was a foregone conclusion, like Rikkai had been expecting to face Hyotei in the semifinals. Why would he….

Yuuya suddenly glimpsed the same thing he had witnessed moments before, mirrored in Yagyuu's eyes. The lynchpin.

One month ago, after practice, in the clubroom. Ando-sensei was talking about Rikkai. "They're better than anything you've seen," he had said, his gaze sweeping over the seated players. "Every one of them is fast, strong, and precise. They have a stable of schools that come in and train with them, just so they're always refining their game. Top-level schools." Ando had glanced down, reading from a fact sheet he had prepared for all the Hida players. "Ooizumi, Nidai Dai-ichi, Hyotei…"

Hyotei.

Ando-sensei had said they were the host-prefectural seat; that Kanto had its top six tournament teams here, and that Hyotei wasn't among them. Something was wrong. They weren't in the best six, but Rikkai seemed sure that Hyotei would make the quarterfinals, confident they would reach the best four. Something must have happened at Kanto to knock them out early. Something… Yuuya didn't have enough information.

And the incident with Yagyuu…. Nausea clawed through Yuuya's stomach. He would not fail the team again. He would not let this become another Tokai.

Yuuya reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell-phone. He flicked it open with one hand and began punching numbers with his thumb, numbers he had dialed so many times they almost seemed to dial themselves.

Ring. Click.

"D'ya have my coke, Kurari?"

"No. Yes. I'll get it, Shouta. It's not important. Stop wasting time with that stupid match and meet me at…" Where was Daisaku? _Think, damn it!_ He fumbled in his pocket for the tournament schedule and tore it open, scanning quickly. "Court seven. I'll explain there."

There was a pause, and then the voice on the other end came back, much quieter. "What's going on, Kurari?"

"I think we have a problem."


	5. Gathering Clouds

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Chapter Five is the final chapter of the leadup to Hida's first court appearance. It follows Kazuki Sunama, one of the Hida tennis club's two top stars. I'll leave you to read for yourself what happens on his watch. Sunama (no one calls him Kazuki) makes up the fourth of our character profiles on the Dark Horse OC spotlight.

**Kazuki Sunama (2nd year)** - One of two tennis prodigies at Hida Junior High, Kazuki Sunama is one of the key reasons why Hida has made it to the national tournament. Sunama's short stature and unassuming demeanor belie both his skill and his ability to see to the heart of his opponents' strengths and weaknesses, which have earned him his usual place as Singles Two. Sunama exudes an atmosphere of quiet reserve, and since his family only recently moved to the Hida area, none of the other players know him very well. He is usually content to keep to himself, and spends a great deal of time pouring over a notebook he keeps with him at all times, and which no other player has ever gotten a clear look at. (The real Sunama looks and acts like an older version of Eriol Hiiragizawa from _Card Captor Sakura_)

_Play Style_: Serve and Volleyer  
_Plays_: Ambidextrous  
_Height_: 152cm  
_Weight_: 49kg  
_Blood Type_: O  
_Birthday_: 2 March

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 5 – Gathering Clouds_

* * *

Small, white clouds scudded across a brilliant blue sky, colliding and dividing in a complex atmospheric dance. The air was hot, heavy with the humidity typical of an early August day in Tokyo. Perfect summer weather. Kazuki leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the sky he knew so well, the Tokyo sky he had spent his whole life watching. His whole life until last year. 

Below, in the court at the center of the stadium, the tennis match continued. Kazuki's ears registered the rhythmic twang of racket strings, the pounding of four pairs of feet on the hard ceramic surface of the court. It was the same as every other match Kazuki had watched from these seats. The players were different, but the game, the hunt, never changed.

These clouds, on the other hand…. These clouds would never be here again. Their lives were so short. They changed from moment to moment: combining, striating, fading away. Tiny clouds, pale and insignificant, so unimportant that most people would hardly notice them. And yet, even as they melted into mist too thin to see, they were moving. They could recombine half a world away, over the Atlantic Ocean, and spin together in the core of a hurricane. Tiny clouds, and yet taken together they could be so much more.

A metallic skittering sound echoed from the court below, followed by the announcer's voice. "Game, Rikkai. Rikkai leads, one game to zero."

Back to the match. Back to the hunt.

Kazuki sighed and pulled his eyes from the clouds. On the court, one of the Yamagata players crouched near the net like a frightened deer, his eyes locked on his opponents. Kazuki recognized the player from one of Ando-sensei's fact sheets: Kotarou Nishikawa was a doubles specialist, the best net player on the Yamagata team. Nishikawa's left hand spasmed, empty. His racket lay at the edge of the service court, more than a meter away.

Across the net, one of Nishikawa's opponents laughed in a baritone voice that grated on Kazuki's ears. The Rikkai player's wild black hair, looking like it hadn't been combed in a month or more, marked him out as Akaya Kirihara. Kirihara started to say something, but a booming order from his partner brought him up short. Kazuki couldn't see the other Rikkai player – his view was blocked by a taller man sitting in front of him – but he knew its owner well. He had watched a year earlier, in this same stadium, as Genichirou Sanada crushed his Singles Two opponent in the final round of the Kanto championship. That match had earned Sanada the nickname he still held today, the nickname Kazuki could hear rising from the throats of the Rikkai tennis club in the seats below him.

Koutei. Emperor.

The cheer was low, insistent. Intended for the Yamagata players, Kazuki was sure. Sanada had no need for cheering. The Rikkai chant was meant to intimidate, in the same way that a pack of wolves howled before descending on their prey in the winter.

Sanada barked another order at the Rikkai team, and they fell silent. That struck Kazuki as far more menacing than the chant itself. There was no question of who was Rikkai's alpha male.

Or, on second thought, perhaps there was. Sanada had led the Rikkai team this season, but he was still only the vice-captain of Rikkai's tennis club. Their captain was Seiichi Yukimura. He had been in the hospital for nearly a year, being treated for… What was it? Some rare condition… Guillain-Barré Syndrome. But the treatment was over, and Yukimura had returned to the Rikkai lineup. Yukimura had not played a game in competition since the final match of last year's national tournament, but he had been widely recognized as the best Junior High player in Japan last year: better than Sanada, better than Shitenhouji's Chitose, better than Ryou Ishibumi, the Makinofuji captain Yukimura had defeated in last year's final match. Every player in Japan was waiting to see if the last nine months had dulled Yukimura's legendary skill, or if he was still the same Yukimura who had swept last year's championship match without dropping a game.

Below, the teams were trading sides. Rikkai would be serving next. Sanada walked toward the net, Kirihara to the baseline. Interesting.

Sanada's serve was strong and fast, probably as good as Seiichi's. Seiichi Kamishimizu, Kazuki reminded himself. His teammate had the fiercest serve Kazuki had faced. That serve came lightning fast, and it could go anywhere on the court. Just one aspect of Kamishimizu's special talent. But Sanada's serve was faster still, so fast that it seemed to disappear. That serve had helped Sanada win his nickname. That, and the other weapons he brought to the hunt.

But Kirihara was serving first. He was Rikkai's own second-year ace, but on a team with Genichirou Sanada and Seiichi Yukimura, he was accounted little more than a solid Singles Three player. Kazuki leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands. If this Kirihara's serve was on a level with Sanada's, he bore a closer analysis.

Kazuki watched with interest as Kirihara's hand arced upward slowly. Just as his arm reached throwing height, Kirihara clenched his fist and the ball leapt into the air. There was a fierceness about the Rikkai player as he brought his racket around to strike the ball, and his serve flew smoothly over the net to land in the center of the Yamagata service court.

What followed made Kazuki blink.

The ball struck the court surface, and spun in place for a moment like a torqued wheel. Then it leapt again, at a bizarre angle. The ball jumped back to the right, toward the net. It traveled in a low parabola, loaded with topspin, and struck the court again before either Yamagata player could react.

Kazuki had seen the same result from some of Seiichi's serves, but there was a profound difference in how Seiichi and this Kirihara served the ball. Kirihara had done something to make the ball ricochet like that… but what? Kazuki leaned forward a little farther, and sucked a breath over his teeth. It must have been that toss. What about Kirihara's toss could have caused-

"Sunama! I thought I might find you here!"

The familiar voice brought Kazuki's head around so fast he heard his neck crack. He had expected to encounter his old teammate ever since seeing his name on the roster for the national tournament, but Rikkai's Doubles One had distracted Kazuki enough that he had forgotten. Briefly. Though for that matter, the timing was probably intentional. Shuusuke Fuji had always enjoyed appearing when and where he was least expected.

"Fancy meeting you here, Sempai." There was an icy note of sarcasm in Kazuki's voice, but he greeted Shuusuke with a smile. They had been teammates at Seikei Junior High last year. Both had transferred away: Kazuki to Hida, in his father's hometown; Shuusuke to Seishun Gakuen, home of the Kanto champions.

Shuusuke's eyes narrowed slightly at the expression on Kazuki's face. "Have you taken up smiling now, Sunama? That's new. It really doesn't suit you."

The smile slipped away as quickly as it had come, and Kazuki found himself pushing his glasses back up his nose. A nervous habit. "I smile when I feel like it, Sempai."

"Which is to say?" Shuusuke returned with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Which is to say a just a little more often than never." Kazuki kept the bite out of his voice. Something about Shuusuke set him on edge. Kazuki couldn't help feeling off-balance whenever they were together.

"Hey, Sunama." Shuusuke's jocular tone vanished, replaced with the seriousness Kazuki had seen him show often at tennis tournaments. "Why don't you come with me for a little while." Shuusuke didn't say where or why. He never had before, either. No reason to think he'd changed any more than Kazuki himself in the last year.

"I'm watching the Rikkai matches, Sempai. My team wants to know how they play." Kazuki couldn't quite keep the impatience out of his voice.

"You already know how they play, Sunama. We watched them last year, right here. Sanada's the same; better after another year of playing, but his techniques haven't changed. And Kirihara plays like you. Now, are you coming?" Shuusuke gave Kazuki an unreadable stare.

He wanted to refuse. Kazuki always wanted to refuse, but Shuusuke was like gravity – inescapable, inexorable, always drawing you back. Kazuki stood, slinging his racket case over his shoulder. "Sure, Sempai."

Wordlessly, Shuusuke turned and ascended the stairs of the arena toward the nearest exit. Kazuki followed, but was distracted by a buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. His cell phone. He snatched it out and flipped open the cover. A text message from Seiichi was waiting for him:

HYOTEI S3 (6-1) D2 (6-2) S2 (6-4). AIT OUT. IWASA KURARI ALSO HERE.

Kazuki nodded to himself. His hunch had been right, and it sounded like someone else must have figured it out too. Probably Iwasa. He acted like a fool, but he made the right choices too often on the court for it to be blind luck. Iwasa was more than he seemed. Flipping the phone closed, Kazuki looked up to see Shuusuke standing by one of the concrete ramps that tunneled through the stadium. Shuusuke was watching him silently. His eyes strayed to the cell phone still in Kazuki's hand, but he didn't say anything.

No reason not to tell him. Everyone would know in a few minutes anyway. "Hyotei took their first three sets. Nagoya AIT is out of the hunt." Kazuki slipped the phone back in his pocket and finished the climb to the exit ramp.

Shuusuke said nothing, simply nodded to himself. Kazuki felt a sudden surge of warmth – Shuusuke's reaction to the news had been almost identical to his own.

They continued in silence. The ramp spilled out into a wide, enclosed avenue spreading beneath the raked walls of the stadium. Shuusuke turned to the right and began weaving through the sparse crowd that milled around looking for bathrooms or food stalls. Kazuki hurried his steps so that he could walk alongside his old teammate. Still, though, no indication from Shuusuke about where they were going. Kazuki hated asking. They walked for another two minutes, neither of them saying a word.

Kazuki was getting tired of this, Shuusuke's perpetual silence. They had walked clear around to the other side of the stadium now. He opened his mouth to ask.

"It's hot today. I think I'm going to get some shaved ice. Do you want any, Sunama?" Shuusuke turned aside to a small shop set in the wall of the stadium's encircling parkway. Two high school students were standing at the counter giving their order to the man running the store, but no one else was waiting in line.

Kazuki's voice was cold enough to chill the air. "We passed three shaved ice stalls on the way here, Sempai."

"Did we?" Shuusuke inquired absently.

Kazuki reluctantly fell in beside Shuusuke. "You didn't bring me all the way to the other side of the stadium for shaved ice."

Shuusuke looked down, and his eyes were sad. "Can't I just spend some time with an old friend? Buy him something to eat? What do you want anyway, Sunama?"

Kazuki's face flushed, and he suddenly felt very ashamed of himself. It had been nearly a year since he last saw Shuusuke, and they had been close when they had played together on the Seikei tennis club. Not friends, exactly. No matter what Shuusuke had just said, that word felt wrong to Kazuki. But he had to admit, he missed playing tennis with Shuusuke. Playing with Seiichi was fun, but it wasn't the same. Kazuki glanced up at the menu hanging above the shop window and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Ehh… Strawberry, I guess, Sempai."

The two high school students moved away, and Shuusuke stepped to the counter. He smiled that infectious smile of his and told the store manager, "Two shaved ices, please. One strawberry, and one kiwi." The manager turned to his work, and Shuusuke spun, leaning back against the counter and staring at Kazuki again.

For some reason he couldn't quite explain, that stare made Kazuki feel uncomfortable. He spoke, just to break the silence. "Kiwi, Sempai?"

"I like it." Shuusuke didn't offer an explanation. He never offered an explanation. "Strawberry?"

Like strawberry was something unusual. Kazuki barely kept back a sigh. "I like it," he replied.

The store manager turned back to Shuusuke. "Four eighty." Shuusuke reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his wallet. He gave the manager a thousand yen bill and took his change, and the shaved ice, in return. He gave the strawberry to Kazuki, and then walked to a concrete ledge, where he sat to enjoy his own kiwi. Kazuki followed, and hopped up to get a seat beside Shuusuke on the ledge. As much as Kazuki enjoyed the summer weather, today was hot and the shaved ice was a welcome treat.

They sat in silence for a minute, eating. The sounds of the Rikkai Doubles One match drifted out through another nearby ramp. The count was four games to zero, now. Not much longer before the set would end. Not much longer before Yukimura would take the court.

Finishing his shaved ice, Shuusuke spoke again. "So you're here with Hida. I hear you won the Tokai tournament." Kazuki expected to hear some surprise in Shuusuke's voice, but it was as even as if he was discussing the weather. He faced forward, his eyes scanning the crowd as if the conversation wasn't important enough to merit his full attention.

"Fishing for information, Sempai?" A smile twitched on Kazuki's face again as he slurped at the last bits of strawberry ice.

Shuusuke laughed good-naturedly. "Why bother. You won't beat Hyotei." There was no condescension in Shuusuke's tone, just frankness.

"Hyotei's that good then? No chance of them going out in the next round?"

"No."

The Tokai final against Nagoya AIT had been a close match, the first three sets at least. Kazuki had to admit that if Hyotei could take AIT so easily, it could mean serious trouble for Hida. But the Hida team had been training hard since Tokai. They wouldn't go down without a fight.

Shuusuke spoke again. "How about Hida? No chance of you going out in the next round?" The question was almost an echo of Kazuki's own. He felt heat creeping through his veins again.

Kazuki shook his head absently, trying to dispel the sensation. "No, Sempai. We'll take our first match. Osaka Tennoji or Rokkaku, whoever wins there. We'll make it to Hyotei."

Shuusuke turned his head and gave Kazuki and appraising look. "Rokkaku isn't weak. Some of them might be able to beat you, Sunama."

"I doubt it. I'm better than I was last year, Sempai. I might even be better than you, now." Kazuki's voice held the same frankness that Shuusuke's had when discussing Hyotei. "And anyway, I'm not our best player. Seiichi's on a whole different level." Again, frankness, though it rankled a little every time Kazuki let himself admit that fact.

Seiichi had a genius for tennis that most people never dreamed of.There had hardly been a chance for Seiichi to play at Tokai, and he hadn't been pushed hard even in the final match with AIT. Neither had Kazuki himself, though he'd done his best to disguise that fact while he was playing. Kazuki had let hisfinals match run for ten games, but he could have taken it in eight, maybe less. He'd held back his good shots, just as Seiichi had. Secrets were powerful weapons when the hunt reached so high.

Shuusuke wore a small smile now, the kind he wore when he was especially pleased with something. "See what you can do against Hyotei, then. If I get a chance, I'll see if I can catch a look at your matches. Tomorrow, if you're still… in the hunt…" Shuusuke's lips curled distastefully at the phrase Kazuki used so often. He left the rest of the thought go unspoken. "Don't disappoint me, Sunama." For a moment, Shuusuke's smile looked almost cruel.

The conversation was interrupted by a loud voice erupting from one of the rampways. "Oi! Fuji-Sempai! They're on the last game!" A tall player with spiky black hair and a white Seigaku jacket sprinted over. He screeched to a halt in front of Shuusuke, panting.

"Already done with the first five, Momoshiro?" Shuusuke smiled happily at the black-haired player's nod. "Well, Sunama, do you want to watch the end of the match?"

Kazuki hopped down from the ledge, and found the other Seigaku player staring at him. "You know this kid, Fuji-Sempai?"

"We used to go to school together," Shuusuke replied brightly. "Sunama plays for Hida Junior High."

No sign of recognition sparked in the other player's eyes. "Oh. Well, I'm Takeshi Momoshiro. Nice to meet you, Sunama." Momoshiro grinned and extended a handshake, which Kazuki accepted. Momoshiro's grip was strong, even for a tennis player, and Kazuki felt tingling numbness when his hand was released.

Momoshiro led the way back up the concrete ramp. Kazuki followed just behind Shuusuke, emerging into a crowd of players in the white jerseys of Seigaku regulars. Most of them, he recognized from the data sheets Ando-sensei had drawn up for the major teams at the tournament. Shuusuke gave a brief round of introductions, through which Kazuki said very little. The Seigaku team hardly seemed to think his presence worth noting; they were all intent on the last points of the Rikkai doubles game playing out below. Kazuki looked around for an empty seat, but the stadium had filled up in the brief time he and Shuusuke had been walking around. That explained why the Seigaku players were all standing near the mouth of the ramp tunnel.

"Forty; love." The call pealed through the stadium like an alarm bell. Kazuki pushed forward through the Seigaku crowd and found himself standing next to a boy in a white cap, no taller than Kazuki himself. Echizen, Kazuki remembered absently; Seigaku's first-year ace. Echizen gave Kazuki a brief, dismissive look before returning his focus to the court below.

Kirihara was serving again. He took position on the left side of the service line, and his hand arced up in the same smooth movement Kazuki had seen earlier. Again, at the last moment the ball leapt from his hand, and he pummeled it back down with his racket. It flashed across the net and struck home in the Yamagata service court. The ball paused again, but this time it flew high in the air. Nishikawa was receiving in the back court, and he had plenty of time to get under the ball. He tensed, bending his knees and thrusting his left hand in the air to trace the ball's descent. Nishikawa stood frozen like that for a full second, waiting, and then delivered a crushing smash to return the ball.

But in the Rikkai court, Sanada stood waiting, his body contorted into something like a crouch. As Kazuki watched, Sanada began to spin, his limbs twisting in a complex chain of movement. He intercepted the smash and returned it, more powerful than before. A palpable aura of destruction seemed to follow the ball.

Nishikawa was fast. He skidded to the right and caught the ball on his racket, a mask of determination covering his face. But the power of Sanada's shot was too much. Nishikawa seemed to hold the ball in check for a moment, but a crack split the air in the stadium and Nishikawa let out an animal scream of pain, collapsing to his knees. A moment later, his racket struck the ground well behind the baseline, but it went unnoticed. All eyes were on the Yamagata player, cradling his wrist delicately.

"Game. Set won by Rikkai, Sanada Kirihara pair, six games to zero." The call echoed over the stadium even as two white-coated paramedics rushed onto the court to look at Nishikawa's wrist. They conferred for only a moment before helping Nishikawa to his feet and leading him away. His doubles partner watched gravely until he was off the field before turning to the net to congratulate the Rikkai players, alone.

There was a buzz among the Seigaku team now. Kazuki didn't bother listening to what they said. His attention was all focused on the court below. The three remaining players from the Doubles One match were leaving, to the sound of cheers from the Rikkai squad, consolation from the players of the Yamagata Dairoku team. As the court cleared, however, a thin, wavy-haired player stepped out from the Rikkai lineup. He wore a thick sweat-band over his forehead, and carried his racket propped on his shoulder. After a nine-month hospital stay, Kazuki expected Seiichi Yukimura to look frail, but the lithe figure making his way onto the court was anything but. He swung his racket in loose arcs, almost experimentally. There was an air of tension about him, like a coiled spring. Like a wolf, stretching his legs after a long rest. He turned, slowly, and stared straight at Kazuki.

Or not. That didn't make any sense. Kazuki glanced over his shoulder, and saw the figure of Kunimitsu Tezuka, the Seigaku captain, towering behind him. Tezuka wore a calm expression as he returned Yukimura's stare. Tezuka lifted his left hand and pushed back his glasses, but the gesture didn't have the air of Kazuki's nervous habit. It looked more… expectant. The final match wouldn't come for more than twenty-four hours, but the look that passed between Tezuka and Yukimura told Kazuki that both of them were just biding their time until then.

The Yamagata captain walked onto the court. He approached the net, and something passed between him and Yukimura. Yukimura spun his racket and let it fall to the ground. He turned, and addressed the chair judge.

Quiet fell over the stadium now, as talk about the end of the Doubles One match faded in expectation of the coming contest. The chair judge stood, raising his voice to be heard by spectators in the highest seats. "Singles One will start. Seiichi Yukimura of Rikkai versus Kaoru Fujiwara of Yamagata, Fujiwara to serve.

Yukimura returned to the baseline and slipped into a low stance to receive. On the opposite end of the court, the Yamagata captain tossed the ball into the air, arcing it slightly forward. As the ball reached its peak, Fujiwara leaned forward and struck. Even as the ball was crossing the net, Fujiwara was runningahead to take position in the forecourt.

Yukimura stood calmly, almost ignoring the serve until the last moment. Then his racket… spun. That was the only word Kazuki could think of to describe the motion: a small, subtle twist, barely a stroke at all. Yukimura's racket spun, and the ball flew back toward Fujiwara with astonishing speed.

The Yamagata captain stood ready at the net. The ball tried to zoom by on his left, but with a lunge, he intercepted it. He pitched the angle of the racket to send the ball back to the far corner of Yukimura's court.

Kazuki's eyes returned to the Rikkai captain. Yukimura turned toward the ball, barreling toward the corner opposite where he stood, and- Kazuki blinked. Yukimura seemed to disappear for a moment, only to reappear behind the ball. PAST the ball, striking it with a forehand.

Fujiwara was quick, too. He caught the ball on the backswing of his racket and dumped it back across the net, removing almost all the power of Yukimura's forehand.

Again, Yukimura turned toward the ball, and again he seemed to vanish. The ball was falling quickly, about to touch the ground. And then Yukimura was under it, one leg bent almost double, the other stretched out to his left. Again, his racket spun, and this time the ball seemed to vanish for a moment. A crack from the Yamagata backcourt called Kazuki's attention. The ball had struck right at the joint of the two white lines.

Kazuki remembered that shot from the Kanto finals the year before, where Yukimura had devastated his opponent. Yukimura had used it there, too, catching a dropshot at the last second and somehow lobbing it back to the far side of his opponent's court in the blink of an eye. Kazuki still didn't understand how that shot was possible, but somehow it seemed to be. After playing with Seiichi, Kamishimizu, Kazuki thought that perhaps he had a little clearer idea of the workings of Yukimura's shot. Not that it mattered. Kazuki still couldn't conceive of a way to counter it.

The call came late, as if the chair umpire had only just noticed the ball. "Love; fifteen." Fujiwara and Yukimura returned to their baselines to begin again.

Kazuki felt a familiar buzzing in his jacket, and reached into his pocket. His cell phone, another text message from Seiichi. Kazuki muttered under his breath, impatient at the distraction. The hunt called to him.

HYOTEI D1(6-0) ANDO SENSEI HERE NOW. HOW IS RIKKAI?

Kazuki punched out a quick reply, as he tilted his head back to stare at the sky. Grey clouds were starting to gather, providing a welcome cool to the August morning. Perfect summer weather. He pressed the 'send' button.

TELL ANDO SENSEI YUKIMURA IS BACK.


	6. Singles Three

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Well, it's finally time to see these kids in action. Chapter Six follows the first set of the match between Hida and Rokkaku. Daisaku (who you already know) plays, but we're watching the match from the perspective of Kousaku Ando, the tennis club advisor. He'll be our newest entry for our OC spotlight.

**Kousaku Ando (Teacher)** - Ando-sensei is the faculty sponsor for the tennis club, and an excellent player of tennis in his own right. When he was a student, he won a number of individual tournaments at the local level. He has never been to the national tournament, however, as either a player or a coach. He is quite short though very muscular, with longish (but not shoulder-length) black hair and smooth, delicate features. Ando-sensei can be nice, sometimes, but he has little patience for mischief or whining, especially with his team preparing to face their toughest challenge at the national junior high school tournament. He works closely with Hirohito Ito, the team captain, to plan rosters and training schedules. (The real Ando-sensei looks like Subaru Sumeragi - the _Tokyo Babylon _version, with the long hair, before he got all uppity and started killing people in _X/1999_).

_Play Style_: Serve and Volleyer  
_Plays_: Left-handed  
_Height_: 164cm  
_Weight_: 52kg  
_Blood Type_: A  
_Birthday_: 18 January

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 6 - Singles Three_

* * *

"Thoughts?" Kousaku lounged back against the bench, his face blank of any emotion. A gentle breeze gusted through the trees behind him, rustling their leaves and bringing a few seconds of relief from the morning heat. 

"They're pretty strong, Ando-sensei. They took all five sets against Osaka Tennoji. I don't think we'll have a problem though." Hirohito stood in a military posture, erect with feet apart and hands behind his back, as he delivered his report.

Hirohito was a good kid. A good captain. But honestly, the boy could stand to be a bit more detailed in his reports. More like Sunama. "Any particular reason you think so, Hirohito?" Kousaku prodded.

"Rokkaku has a strong set of players. No standouts, though. No one who'd be able to take out Seiichi or Sunama."

Kousaku almost sighed. That wasn't his concern right now, and Hirohito knew it. The captain looked distracted, though. His mind was wandering again. Something was wrong with Hirohito. Kousaku didn't know what it was, but he wanted to find out. Hida couldn't afford to lose its captain here. Tetsuya might know, might be able to help. Kousaku made a mental note to talk to him at the first opportunity. For now though, there was nothing to do but push Hirohito back on course. "So it's down to Doubles, and Yamaguchi."

Hirohito blinked and shook his head, as if trying to clear it of unwanted thoughts. "Yes. But I've taken care of it. I made a little change to our lineup for these matches."

Kousaku arched an eyebrow, feeling somewhat irritated. It was Hirohito's right to change the lineup, but he had never done it without consulting Kousaku before.

Hirohito reddened slightly, tripping over his tongue to explain. "I switched the order on our doubles pairs, Ando-sensei. We only need to win one, and then the singles squad can clean up for us."

The singles squad. Hirohito meant Kamishimizu and Sunama again. Kousaku knew the captain had never been fond of Yamaguchi filling out the singles roster. Kousaku wasn't that happy about it himself, but there just wasn't anyone else. Either Hirohito or Tetsuya would be a better Singles Three, but they were stronger working together in doubles. Iwasa... Iwasa could do it, certainly, if he wanted to. But he had never wanted to, and Kousaku knew better than to push him too far. That left Kawakami and Yamaguchi, and of the two, Yamaguchi was better suited to singles. What Kousaku wouldn't give for just one more strong player. "You aren't counting on Yamaguchi then." It wasn't really a question.

"No. Not this time." For once, Hirohito had said all that really needed to be said.

"Well then, let's get back to the court and get this thing started." Kousaku stood smoothly and began walking toward court seven. Hirohito dropped in behind him, matching his stride.

The rest of the Hida team had assembled around the entrance to court seven. Kamishimizu was standing to one side, arms out, trying to balance his racket on his nose. Sunama had his nose buried in that notebook of his, as always. Kawakami and Iwasa were conversing in hushed voices, which would have seemed distinctly out of character if Kousaku hadn't been aware of how much mutual understanding actually lay behind their relationship. Tetsuya was leaning back against the walled entrance to the court area, his usually exuberant expression replaced by a troubled look.

Yamaguchi... Yamaguchi was nervous. The boy was trying to hide it, but there was a slump in his shoulders and a haunted look in his eyes that told the real story. Yamaguchi was playing the first match of the tournament for Hida. In a few minutes, all eyes would be on him. Yamaguchi would be the first face Hida presented to the tournament. Spectators wondering about the relative unknowns who had taken the Tokai championship would all be looking to him.

Frankly, it hardly mattered as far as Kousaku was concerned. If Hirohito was right, Yamaguchi would probably lose. That was fine, as long as one of the doubles pairs managed to pick up their match. Well... fine as long as Hirohito and Tetsuya won their match. By changing the roster, Hirohito had probably made an easier match for himself, but consequently he had probably forced Iwasa and Kawakami into a harder confrontation. Kousaku hoped the captain hadn't made a mistake. It was too late to change it now, anyway. The match-ups had been decided.

As Kousaku and Hirohito approached, the team broke off what they had been doing and circled around. Hirohito slipped into the line beside Tetsuya, who stepped aside almost avoidantly to make room. Kousaku definitely needed to have a talk with Tetsuya. Taking his place, Hirohito barked an order and the team bowed in unison.

Kousaku folded his arms over his chest, and gave the players a searching look. "I know you kids are nervous, and you should be. This is the national tournament. It doesn't get any harder than this. You'll need to play your best tennis here, or we'll be going home on the next bus to Hida. These teams are all top-class. Remember the finals against Nagoya AIT at Tokai. AIT lost to a team that didn't even place in the Kanto tournament. If you don't bring your A-game, we'll lose just the same.

"Don't let yourselves get nervous. If you're nervous, you'll lose your edge. Remember, nobody expected us to win Gifu, but we did. Nobody expected us to win Tokai, but we did. Nobody expects us to win here. Hell, I don't even expect it. But I'm not ready to go home yet, and I know you aren't either. You've studied, you've practiced, you know what's coming. So why don't we go out there and show this Rokkaku just how far we can beat them."

It wasn't a bad pep talk. Kousaku was expecting some sort of cheer to follow his conclusion, but the Hida players were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Kamishimizu looked on the verge of cheering anyway, but after a glance at his teammates and their downcast faces, he shrugged and gave Kousaku an apologetic look.

Muttering to himself, Kousaku pushed through the players and led the way down to the court. If the team didn't get themselves together... At this rate, even Hirohito and Tetsuya might lose their match. If both the doubles teams went down after Yamaguchi, Hida would be out of the tournament. Kamishimizu and Sunama could only help so far.

The team straggled behind in an uneven line. Kousaku stopped at the edge of the court, and the players continued forward to greet their opponents. The Rokkaku team already waited at the net, a phalanx of red, sleeveless jerseys. Hirohito brought the Hida players to a stop, and the two teams bowed formally to each other to begin the competition.

Kousaku waited until the players filed away before taking his seat on the coach's bench that lined the side of the court. A small man, impossibly old, sat with his knees tucked under on the bench facing the other side of the court. Kousaku blinked. That was the Rokkaku Tennis Advisor? He didn't look like he could stand on hios own, much less coach a tennis team. After a moment, disbelief changed to wariness. Kousaku didn't like surprises. If this man was coaching the Rokkaku tennis team, it was for a reason.

"Singles Three will now begin. The best of one set match!" The voice of the chair umpire was especially loud to Kousaku, who was sitting so close. "Daisaku Yamaguchi of Hida versus Hikaru Amane of Rokkaku. Yamaguchi to serve!" A scattering of applause went up from the two teams and the assembled spectators.

Yamaguchi unzipped his racket case, pulling out a well-used, black graphite racket. He swung it experimentally as he walked toward the service line. A line judge gave him two fresh tennis balls. Yamaguchi pocketed one and gripped the other tightly in his fist. Kousaku could see that his nerves were still frayed. If Yamaguchi didn't find a way to master his fear, this match would be over very quickly.

Kousaku looked across the net to the Rokkaku player. His mind went blank for a second at what he saw. First the old man. Now...

The Rokkaku player, Amane, was as tall as Yamaguchi. He had wild brown hair that seemed poised in a state of suspended disorder. What caught Kousaku's attention most, though, was the boy's racket. It was wood, handcrafted. Undoubtedly the racket was heavier than anything the Hida players used. But in place of the faces of traditional wooden rackets from decades past, this racket had the same shape as any modern large-faced racket. The same shape in all but one respect. The handle on the racket was impossibly long, possibly as much as half a meter. Kousaku had never seen anything like it.

Ideas percolated through Kousaku's mind, about the significance of that racket. There was probably a connection to the old man, the Rokkaku tennis advisor sitting on the other bench, but Kousaku still couldn't see what it would be. The racket itself, though... Kousaku taught physics to the students of Hida Junior High. He was the staff advisor to the tennis club, but his job as a teacher was grounded on more practical matters. Physics, though, was where his mind turned when he considered the racket.

It was made out of wood, meaning it was heavier than a standard graphite racket. That was good for giving power to the ball, but bad for swing speed. The racket also had that long handle. Hitting a tennis ball was like applying force through a lever, in reverse. The ball applied force against the head of the racket, pushing backwards. The racket acted as a lever, and the wrist as its fulcrum. The greater the distance between the force and the fulcrum, between the ball and the hand gripping the racket, the more effective the lever. If the lever moved too much, the player's grip would break. A long-handled racket gave excellent reach, but it also magnified the difficulty of returning powerful shots. Added to the racket's abnormally heavy weight, the problem would be even more daunting.

Succinctly, the benefits of a long-handled racket were overshadowed by the difficulties using one would create. Since this Amane was using such a racket, it could only mean that somehow in his case, those difficulties had ceased to matter.

Yamaguchi stepped to the baseline and tossed the tennis ball into the air. He brought his racket back, and snapped it in a forward arc. The ball sped away... And slammed into the rope mesh a full three centimeters below the tape that marked the top of the net. "Fault!" The call rang out over the stadium, prompting some muttering from the crowd.

Yamaguchi's hand seemed to shake as it reached into his pocket, plucking out the second ball. Again, he tossed it into the air, again his racked connected smartly.

Again, the ball flew into the net.

"Double-fault! Love; fifteen." Amane walked lazily to the other side of the court. He muttered something that sounded like, "Double fault isn't my fault." A chorus of groans erupted from the Rokkaku players, and a boy with a broom of thick black hair looked ready to throw a tennis ball at the back of Amane's head.

On Kousaku's side of the court, Yamaguchi seemed shaken. He wasn't a strong server, but he rarely missed, much less double-faulted. He rolled his shoulders and received another two balls from the line judge. _Come on, Yamaguchi. You're better than this. _Kousaku found himself leaning forward, his hands folded beneath his chin. The boy had always had a nervous streak under pressure, but now was not the time to give into it.

The next serve came slow and weak. Probably a good choice, Kousaku thought. If Yamaguchi was too nervous to serve properly, the best thing he could do right now was to make sure he'd at least get his serve to land in the service court.

Amane dashed forward, catching the serve just as it bounced. He flicked his racket upward, and the ball flew back across in a low arc, aimed at the left corner of Yamaguchi's baseline. Yamaguchi ran to catch the ball, but the return was too fast. It landed and skittered away before Yamaguchi was even close. Return ace. "Love; thirty," called the chair umpire.

The third point went the same way, but Kousaku could see that Yamaguchi was starting to regain some of his control. Yamaguchi was too concerned with what other people thought of him. Sometimes, that meant he showed nerves like he was doing now. Sometimes, it made him step his game up a notch to keep from disappointing his team. Yamaguchi hated losing more than any player Kousaku had ever coached. Some of that feeling seemed to be returning to him now. Yamaguchi wouldn't want to be taken down this quickly, this easily.

Yamaguchi didn't bother weakening his serve on the fourth point. It was clean and smooth, even if it lacked the power and speed of his ground shots. Amane returned it easily, but this time Yamaguchi was on the move. Yamaguchi caught the ball in the back court and fired a straight shot that made Amane run to catch the ball in time. Amane's return was uncontrolled, and Yamaguchi tried to take advantage of it by aiming his next forehand cross-court. Amane was still moving the wrong way, and had to change directions to reach the ball. It looked like a clear winner for Yamaguchi.

And then, Amane began to reach. He lunged, extending his right arm toward the ball. No normal player could have reached it, but with his long-handled racket, Amane was able to get a piece of the ball and send it back across the net to Yamaguchi. Kousaku reconsidered the racket for a moment. Was it possible the benefits actually outweighed the limitations?

The ball was breezing toward Yamaguchi's backhand side, and Kousaku thought he could see a smile creep over the boy's face. Yamaguchi planted his feet and gripped the racket in both hands. Then, as the ball came in range, he leapt forward on his right leg and swung, twisting his body. A backhand jackknife. The move came naturally for Yamaguchi; it derived its power from the left arm and the motion of the body, and took control from the right hand. Yamaguchi often commented about how similar hitting a jackknife was to making a strike in kendo. Power with the left hand, control with the right. Even Kamishimizu could have a hard time returning Kousaku's jackknife. Which, of course, was why Kamishimizu never gave Yamaguchi the opportunity to hit one when the two played each other.

The jackknife swished over the net, setting the tape line flapping. Kousaku took some relief from the fact that Yamaguchi wasn't going to drop his first game without even taking a point. Amane was waiting in the ball's path with that long racket of his, but with the added strain of the long handle, there was no way for the Rokkaku player to return Yamaguchi's best shot.

Amane swung his racket casually, with only one hand. It caught the ball and seemed to pause for half a second as the force of the impact pushed backwards against the racket head. Then, like a spring wound too tight, the racket leapt forward and sent the ball to Yamaguchi's baseline. Yamaguchi didn't register the return in time. It flew by him and struck, bouncing away into the wall of the court.

"Game, Rokkaku. One game to zero. Hikaru Amane to serve."

* * *

After watching Yamaguchi drop the first three games, Kousaku needed to get away. He felt nauseous. Was Hirohito's appraisal wrong? Certainly, Hirohito had thought Yamaguchi stood no chance, but the captain couldn't have thought he would be beaten this soundly. 

Oh, Yamaguchi was fighting. He played each point harder than the last, but he was being pressed past his limit. His nervousness had long since faded, replaced by anger and determination, but it was doing him no good. It would do him no good. Even with the longer racket, Rokkaku's Amane was just as fast, just as strong. No amount of determination could solve the simple imbalance in power between the two players. Yamaguchi was going to lose, and he wasn't even going to do it gracefully.

That left the doubles teams. But since Hirohito had rearranged the schedule... Kousaku fought down a stab of anger. He wanted to shout at the boy, but it would accomplish nothing. Since Hirohito had rearranged the schedule, Iwasa and Kawakami would be facing a stronger pair, a pair they probably couldn't beat either. That left Hirohito and Tetsuya, the captain and vice captain. On any other day, Kousaku would have felt safe betting on them to win their match. But with the way they had both been acting lately, he could no longer be sure.

As Yamaguchi and Amane traded courts before the fourth game, Kousaku turned to look back over his shoulder. "Sunama! Take the bench. I'm going to get something to drink. I'll be back in a few minutes."

A confused hush fell over the players. Everyone knew Sunama had the best analytical skills on the team, but if Kousaku was leaving, for any length of time, the team captain Hirohito should be the one to take over the bench. If not Hirohito, then Tetsuya, the vice-captain. Not Sunama. As Kousaku rose from the bench and stepped into the stands, the crowd began to mutter as well. Kousaku did his best to ignore them and snagged Tetsuya by the arm.

"Tetsuya. I want to talk with you for a minute. Will you come with me?" Kousaku's voice indicated that it wasn't really a question, but Tetsuya hesitated even so. Finally, he gave a nod, and Kousaku pulled him up the stairs and out of the tennis arena.

As soon as they were free of the court, away from the eyes of the team, Kousaku rounded on the boy. "Something's wrong with Hirohito and you know it, Tetsuya. I've never seen him like this before. He's distracted, not paying attention to what's around him. And he's making mistakes. Why did you let him change the roster, Tetsuya? He sacrificed Iwasa and Kawakami." Kousaku could feel anger rising in his voice, but he couldn't stop it. The team had come so far. If Hida lost because of Hirohito's insane decision... Kousaku clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Tetsuya refused to meet Kousaku's eyes. When he could bring himself to speak, the boy sounded strained. "It's... I'm sorry, Ando-sensei. It's my fault. I don't know how, or why, but it has to be. He's never been like this before. Not ever, not even when we were kids. I know it was stupid, changing the match-ups, but I was too... I couldn't stop him."

The way Tetsuya was staring at the ground, the frantic edge to his voice; there was more wrong here than Kousaku had realized. Tetsuya was afraid. Afraid of his own brother. The anger was still flowing through Kousaku, but he couldn't bring it under control. Whatever he had said before, he wanted Hida to win. To win against Rokkaku, to win again next round, to make it to the top. He wanted to scream. It was falling apart already. "Damn it, Tetsuya! Why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier! I could have... I don't know. I could have done SOMETHING! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Silence followed Kousaku's tirade. Tetsuya stood, head bowed, not moving a muscle. Kousaku glared at him, but the boy refused to speak. The silence stretched on. Half a minute. A minute. Two minutes.

With a roar, Kousaku turned and slammed his fist into the wall surrounding the tennis arena. Again. Again. Why the hell had this happened? Why hadn't Kousaku seen it earlier? Kousaku's fist struck the wall again. Again. Yamaguchi was down on the court, fighting an opponent he couldn't possibly beat. Again. Iwasa and Kawakami were as good as out, thanks to Hirohito's idiocy. Again. And Tetsuya... Tetsuya wouldn't hold up five minutes on the court with his brother.

Kawakami's words came back to him, all too clear in his memory. When Kousaku had arrived for the last sets of the AIT match, the Hyotei match, Kawakami had told him about talking with Rikkai. About the Hida roster. "It won't work here, Ando-sensei," he had said. "We can't keep playing like we expect Sunama and Seiichi to clean up at the end. We need to win every match. Every match we can. We can't keep playing like this is Tokai. We can't keep pretending it's all up to them."

Kawakami was right, but it was too late to do anything about it. If Kousaku had just realized it sooner. If he had just talked to Tetsuya sooner. If he had just confronted Hirohito sooner. If he had just done ANYTHING sooner. Pain in his hand brought Kousaku around.

He was still hitting the wall. Thankfully, the grounds were closed off by a tree-lined walk here, and there was no one around to see him. Kousaku pulled back his hand to find a red stain on the wall. The skin along his knuckles was shredded, and blood was seeping through to trickle down his fingers. He cursed under his breath and turned back to Tetsuya.

The boy's eyes were still locked on the ground, but his shoulders shook. Sobbing. Kousaku's anger ebbed, flowing out with the blood. He took a step forward and squatted in front of Tetsuya to look into his eyes.

The boy's face was a mask of tension. He was trying to keep himself from crying, but a few stray tears leaked down his cheeks anyway. Tetsuya met Kousaku's eyes, and his voice came out as a whisper. "I... I'm sorry, Ando-Sensei. I know, it's my fault. We're going to lose, and it's because of me. Hirohito knows it too. He knows I'm not any good. I think he hates me, Ando-sensei. This morning, before we left, he..."

Kousaku rested his bloody hand on his knee and with the other, reached up and smoothed Tetsuya's hair. "Shh... no, Tetsuya, that's not true. He doesn't hate you. I'm sorry, Tetsuya. I shouldn't have gotten angry. I'm just... worried. I wanted us to win. But it's okay. It's over now. We can go home, soon. I'll talk to Hirohito. After the tournament it'll be okay, Tetsuya. Don't worry." Kousaku tried to smile.

Tetsuya nodded weakly and rubbed at his eyes. "Okay, Ando-sensei." The boy sounded surprisingly convinced. He would probably latch onto anything right now.

"C'mon, Tetsuya. I'll buy you something to drink." Kousaku stood and walked away from the court, motioning for Tetsuya to follow. Kousaku wanted to wash the blood off his hand, anyway, and this would give Tetsuya some time to stop crying. If they went back into the arena like this, the Hida players would probably fall apart. To the extent that they weren't already falling apart.

There was a line of vending machines about 60 meters down the walking path, and an open sink where players could get water to wash off the sweat of a match. Kousaku went to the sink first, and stuck his hand under the tap. His torn knuckles stung as cold water flowed over them, washing the blood away in crimson rivulets. Kousaku let the water run for a full minute before closing the tap. The skin under the blood was ragged, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the most part. When they returned to the court, Kousaku would use one of the bandages in his medical kit to wrap the hand. The players would know something happened, but that probably couldn't be helped. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore.

When Kousaku turned back, he found Tetsuya wiping his eyes. The boy appeared to have stopped crying, as well. Good. Kousaku smiled at him and went to the rack of vending machines. They were all loaded with sports drinks, unsurprisingly. Kousaku bought two bottles of an amino lemon drink he liked, and tossed one to Tetsuya. "Okay then, what do you say we head back to the court. Yamaguchi's match is probably just about over."

Tetsuya nodded his head. "Yes, Ando-sensei."

Kousaku continued to talk as they began the walk back to court seven. "Anyway, your match should be up in just a few minutes, Tetsuya. I'll tell the umpire to cancel it, so you don't have to go out there with Hirohito right now. Then, it's just..."

"No." The lone word carried a determination Kousaku had rarely heard from the boy. "No, Ando-sensei. We aren't done yet. I don't know if Hirohito and I can win our match right now, but I'm not giving up. I don't care. I want to play."

Kousaku nodded, a bit sadly. Well, if Tetsuya wanted it that much... It was only one set, either way. They walked the rest of the 60 meters in silence.

As Kousaku walked down the arena stairs toward his team, he watched the end of a point play out. The Rokkaku player, Amane, looked as composed as when Kousaku had left. He had broken a sweat, and his hair was beginning to lose some of the poise it had possessed at the start of the match, but Amane scarcely seemed to care.

Across the net, Yamaguchi was fighting harder even than he had fought at Tokai. His blue-and-black jersey was darkened where sweat had begun to saturate the fabric. Yamaguchi's mouth was open, gulping air. He was dashing for the corner, trying to reach a backhand shot from Amane. Yamaguchi got under it, barely, and scooped it into the air with a lob.

Amane moved toward the net, and raised his racket above his head. With Amane's height and the racket's length, he easily caught the lob, and brought it back down in a smash, landing in the center of Yamaguchi's backcourt.

But Yamaguchi was moving faster than Kousaku had ever seen him move. He was in front of the smash, set to receive it. Yamaguchi gripped his racket in both hands, and struck a powerful forehand toward Amane's baseline.

The speed was too fast, coming off the smash. Amane couldn't bring his racket around in time to return the ball, and it rebounded off the white line at the back of the court. A point for Yamaguchi. Finally. Kousaku cracked a small smile. At least Hida wouldn't lose Singles Three without taking a point.

"Game, Hida. Two games to four. Daisaku Yamaguchi to serve." The call rang out over the stands, and Kousaku stopped dead in his tracks. Not a point, but two GAMES? And more than that, if Yamaguchi was about to serve, that meant he had just broken Amane's own serve.

Kousaku sprinted the rest of the way down the stairs and vaulted over the small banister separating the stands from the court. He nearly tore Sunama off the bench. "Yamaguchi has two games? What happened?" There was a sort of giddy panic in his voice that Kousaku was unable to contain.

Sunama pushed up his glasses and looked at Kousaku calmly. "Nothing happened, Sensei. Daisaku is just playing as hard as he can. Well, nothing except..." Sunama turned his head toward Yamaguchi, and Kousaku followed his gaze. Yamaguchi was preparing to serve. He hurled the ball into the air, and it described a high arc, slightly forward. The toss was excellent, better than Yamaguchi's usual throws, though perhaps a bit too far forward to be perfect. Yamaguchi brought the racket back behind his head.

And Kousaku saw the difference, why the toss was better than usual. Yamaguchi had tossed the ball with his right hand. Yamaguchi was right-handed. And he was serving with his left. Why the hell would Yamaguchi...

The thought evaporated from Kousaku's mind as Yamaguchi's racket crashed into the ball. Crashed was the only word. That was no serve, not in the conventional sense. The racket whipped over Yamaguchi's head, but instead of snapping down like a normal serve, the racket continued forward on a circular arc. It found the ball just forward of where a normal serve should strike. And then the little green dot vanished, replaced with a loud crack. Kousaku turned to the scoreboard. All the competition courts in the Arena Tennis complex came equipped with radar speed sensors.

The scoreboard displayed the serve speed in bright yellow digits. 202 kilometers per hour.

Kousaku hardly registered the number, except to suck in a breath that he had lost when the serve struck home. The chair umpire said something, but Kousaku was too intent on Yamaguchi to notice. He was in position for the next serve now. He tossed the ball into the air again, and brought the racket around. But a different noise greeted Kousaku's ears this time, a sort of diffuse thumping. He turned, and saw the tennis ball lying at the base of the net. Yamaguchi continued, undeterred. He launched another ball, and this time the serve cleared the net. It landed in the outside corner of the service court, bouncing away before Amane had a chance to intercept it.

"Thirty; love." A part of Kousaku's mind registered the number, but his attention was too focused on Yamaguchi to really care. Yamaguchi had never been a strong server. It was one of the key weaknesses in his game. Yamaguchi was a power hitter without a power serve. But somehow, using his left hand, he had managed to find the serve he had been missing.

The next serve flew wide, clearing the net but landing outside the service court. Outside the court entirely, in fact. The error didn't faze Yamaguchi. He began his second serve, again, with all the power of the first. This time, though, the ball flew long. Another double fault. "Thirty; fifteen." So Yamaguchi had power now, but it seemed he lacked the control to use it correctly. Still, if he could hold his service games...

"He's still going to lose." Sunama was standing beside the bench, still. He watched the game through analytical eyes. "He'll hold his serve here, but Daisaku doesn't have enough energy to Break Amane again. The set will go four more games. Amane will win 6-4." The dispassion in Sunama's voice was like a lead weight in Kousaku's stomach. "It'll be close. But Daisaku will still lose."

"Forty; fifteen." And then one last serve from Yamaguchi, one last time watching that ball scream across the net. Amane almost got to it this time, but the ball went just wide of his racket head. "Game, Hida. Three games to four. Hikaru Amane to serve."

The next game played out just as Sunama had predicted. Yamaguchi continued to fight, but it just wasn't enough. Amane's expression had changed, too. He was no longer smiling. Amane attacked ruthlessly, point after point. Yamaguchi managed to take the game to deuce, but in the end, Amane was too much for him.

"Game, Rokkaku. Five games to three. Daisaku Yamaguchi to serve."

On serve, though, Yamaguchi was stronger than ever. The boy's serve seemed to get better each point. Not faster, but more under control, as if he was getting used to the shot. Yamaguchi managed to play the game without committing another double-fault. Amane was improving too, though. The Rokkaku player caught the final serve and sent it back, but the swing was wild and the ball went past the baseline.

"Out," called the chair judge. "Game, Hida. Four games to five. Change court."

Sunama had retreated behind the bench, now, but he still hadn't gone to join the other players in the stands. Everyone, including the judges, seemed too absorbed in the game to notice his small figure. His voice caught Kousaku's ears, so faint it was hard to make out.

"And now, it ends."

Kousaku knew, somehow, that Sunama wasn't only referring to the match being played. Sunama meant the entire tournament. He must have read the situation with Hirohito long before Kousaku had even detected it. Sunama was saying that with Yamaguchi out of the way, Hida's run in the tournament was over.

"No." Kousaku's own determination flared now, and he spoke with a voice pitched low enough that only one other person could have heard. "No Sunama, it doesn't." And then louder, "Yamaguchi. Come here."

Yamaguchi came running. There was a 60 second break for the court change. Kousaku spoke quickly. "Where did that serve come from, Yamaguchi?"

"It's kendo, Sensei. You swing with your left hand. That's where all the power is. The right is just for control. I just thought..." Yamaguchi started to run on, but Kousaku cut him off.

"Yamaguchi. We need this set. We need you to win. Forget that there are two doubles matches. This is the same as the Tokai finals. We need you to win, and we need you to do it now." Yamaguchi frowned uncertainly and opened his mouth, but Kousaku ran right over him. "Sunama says it can't be done. I don't care, Yamaguchi. Find a way. _Prove him wrong._"

The chair umpire turned toward Kousaku's bench. "Fifteen seconds, Hida. Get on the court." Kousaku gave a nod to Yamaguchi, and the boy turned back to the court.

Would it help? Was there anything Yamaguchi could still do, any way he could bring himself back? Kousaku wanted to believe...

Yamaguchi stepped to the baseline, ready to receive. He looked... No, Kousaku couldn't tell. Yamaguchi's face was blank. He looked almost relaxed.

The serve came high and fast, its angle accentuated by the reach of Amane's racket. Kousaku sat on the edge of the bench, praying for a miracle. Praying for Yamaguchi to find a way to get by Amane. He waited as the ball rebounded in the service court. It was heading straight for Yamaguchi. A perfect opportunity.

The ball flew by Yamaguchi's head. The boy hardly seemed to notice. He had that same blank look on his face. Kousaku had never seen that expression before, and he admitted to himself that he was afraid of it. What was Yamaguchi doing? Was he giving up? Everyone knew how accurate Sunama's predictions were. Had Yamaguchi decided not to fight?

The second serve came a little lower, a little faster. Yamaguchi's hand twitched on the grip of his racket.

And the ball sailed past, another service ace. "Thirty; love."

Yamaguchi paced back to the forehand court and squared himself to receive. His expression still hadn't changed. Amane lobbed another ball into the air and smashed it. The serve flew across the net, and Kousaku felt anxiety flooding through him.

At the last second, Yamaguchi's hand twitched again, but this time his racket moved with it. The stroke was so fast that Kousaku couldn't really see it, but he heard an indrawn breath from Sunama behind him. Then an odd, reverberating noise. A shot off the racket frame. And the sound of a tennis ball striking the net. "Forty; love. Match point."

A cheer went up from the Rokkaku team. "One more point! One more point!" It echoed in Kousaku's chest. One more point. One more point, and for all practical purposes the National Tournament would be over. At least for Hida Junior High. One more point and they would all be going home.

Amane tossed the ball into the air, high over his head. He brought the racket around, connecting at the peak of the throw, high above him. With the weight of the racket and the added length both brought to bear, the ball rushed forward with terrible momentum.

Again, Yamaguchi stood as still as a stone. As the ball crossed the net. As it struck the court. As it bounced toward him. And then again, that swing. Kousaku blinked, and missed everything but the sound. But this time that sound was different, the pluck of strings rather than the reverberating frame.

"Forty; fifteen. Match point."

The Rokkaku squad was quiet now. Kousaku's mind was as blank as Yamaguchi's face. Thoughts skittered through his head, questions about what had just happened, but he found he was too focused on the game now to pursue the thoughts any farther.

Another serve, faster still, aimed at the outside corner of the service court. Yamaguchi had to run to catch it. His racket trailed in a limp hand, almost dragging across the court. At the last moment, he twisted. Kousaku thought he heard a whistling noise this time, and then the same sound of plucked strings. The racket moved too fast for him to see clearly.

The sound of the ball came again, then. From the baseline of Amane's court. And the voice of the chair umpire, with it. "Forty; thirty. Match point."

The entire crowd was silent now. It seemed to Kousaku like someone should be cheering. Yamaguchi had just saved two match points. More, he'd saved them on return aces. Return aces against a player whose speed and reach had stopped every attack Yamaguchi had made until now.

Amane's mouth had thinned into a tight line. He served again, slower this time, focusing his attention on the return. Yamaguchi stepped in toward the ball and caught it while it was rising, and Kousaku finally caught a glimpse of the shot Yamaguchi was using. Enough of a glimpse to understand, anyway.

Yamaguchi let the racket rest at his side, almost lazily. Kousaku knew the boy had excellent reaction time. Years of playing kendo had conditioned that in him. Now, Yamaguchi seemed to wait until the ball was alongside him before swinging his racket. It should have been impossible to hit the ball so late.

And then the racket moved. Yamaguchi swung edge-on, using his wrist to snap the face back into position at the last second. Edge-on, the racket offered almost no wind resistance, allowing Yamaguchi to use a faster swing. When the racket connected, it gave the ball more force, more speed, than any shot Kousaku had seen. It easily eclipsed Yamaguchi's jackknife and Kawakami's _hakuda_.

The ball leapt from the racket, so fast that Kousaku couldn't see it. Amane was running for it, though. The long-handled racket swung, but the ball skidded underneath it, ricocheting off the court. "Deuce." And finally, a cheer erupted from the Hida players. And from a good portion of the crowd. The match was finally turning exciting for them.

Amane couldn't stop the next two service returns either, though he came closer each time. The long, heavy wooden racket couldn't move with the same speed as Yamaguchi's, no matter how strong Amane might be. Whatever it was, Yamaguchi's new shot was enough to put the Rokkaku player on the defensive at last.

"Game Hida. Five games all. Daisaku Yamaguchi to serve."

Kousaku turned to face the boy standing behind the bench. "What do you think now, Sunama?" There was no smugness in Kousaku's tone, only genuine curiosity. Yes, Sunama had been wrong, but only because Yamaguchi had found a way to fight back against Amane. Sunama was still right more often than not, and he probably understood how this new shot would change the match better than Kousaku himself.

"I don't know, Sensei. I told you it would be close. I still think it will be close. But if I had to guess, I think I would put Daisaku on top now." Sunama frowned to himself, and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

Kousaku turned his attention back to the match. Yamaguchi's first serve was flawless, striking the center line of Amane's service court. The next one was just as good, rebounding from the outside corner and flying out of reach before Amane could bring that long-handled racket around to catch it.

And then, Yamaguchi started to self-destruct. The next two serves went into the net, for a double fault. Then the two after that. Then the two after that. Kousaku watched in horror as Yamaguchi created a break opportunity with his serve.

With the count at 30-40, Yamaguchi brought his left hand around one more time. He connected with the ball, and it shot across the net. It struck, and flew past Amane's head. The Rokkaku player made no move to return it.

The voice of one of the line judges boomed out over the arena. "Fault. Second serve."

Seven faults. Seven faults in a row. The only thing keeping Kousaku from rushing onto the court to throttle Yamaguchi was the fact that he knew the boy was doing everything he could to win.

Yamaguchi stood stone-still, staring across the net. Kousaku began to count to himself, unconsciously.

One. Two. Three. Why was he still waiting? Six. Seven. Yamaguchi had to continue. Ten. If the count got to twenty, Yamaguchi would take a penalty and the game would go to Amane. Fifteen. Sixteen. Move, damn it!

Finally, Yamaguchi acted. He switched the racket to his right hand and tossed the ball in a high arc. Kousaku found himself praying for another miracle shot, something to keep Hida in the match, in the tournament. The racket snaked behind Yamaguchi's head, coming around to strike the ball….

And Kousaku witnessed the single most boring, slow-moving serve of his life. But it went in. The ball struck dead center in Amane's service court. The Rokkaku player caught it easily and struck a straight forehand toward the right corner of Yamaguchi's backcourt, the same sort of service return Amane had used to rack up return aces in the early games.

But Yamaguchi was at the net, ready for the ball. The slowness of the serve had given him time to approach. He darted right as the ball came over the net and hit a cross-court volley. The ball struck the outside corner of Amane's service court, far beyond the reach of his racket. "Deuce."

Yamaguchi returned to his baseline and switched the racket back to a left-hand grip for the next serve. He tossed the ball and struck, but again the serve landed wide. Why was that left-handed serve suddenly so wild? Yamaguchi had taken his last three service games on the strength of that left-handed serve, but now he didn't seem able to get it to go in even once.

Switching the racket to his right hand, Yamaguchi launched his second serve. Again, it came slow. Amane caught it as Yamaguchi ran for the net, but this time Amane struck a long, arching lob. Yamaguchi was too far forward. He tried to run backwards, to catch the ball as it came down, but he wasn't fast enough. Amane's lob landed centimeters in front of the baseline and bounded away before Yamaguchi could do anything. "Advantage receiver."

Yamaguchi bent over for a moment, panting. He looked exhausted, even by his own standards. Kousaku was amazed at how much energy the boy still poured into every point. The count resumed in Kousaku's head, but it was only a few seconds before Yamaguchi righted himself. He switched the racket to his left hand and served, and miraculously the ball went in. Amane was caught flat-footed. He swung his racket in a hurried forehand, but the ball caught the wooden frame and bounced away uselessly. "Deuce again."

Yamaguchi switched to the forehand court and prepared another serve. Again, Yamaguchi's left-handed swing crashed into the ball as it hung overhead, and again, thankfully it landed in Amane's service court. Kousaku sighed in relief. Yamaguchi seemed to have the serve back under control again.

But Amane was running now, swinging a two-handed backhand at the serve. He caught it, and the ball flew back toward Yamaguchi. Amane had finally mastered the timing to return Yamaguchi's serve.

Yamaguchi didn't seem fazed by the return. He was running too, cross-court to catch the shot. He struck a low backhand of his own, and the ball returned to Amane. The pair continued trading blows, the rally drawing longer and longer. Amane would try to hit the ball beyond Yamaguchi's reach, but Yamaguchi refused to give up. He was everywhere on the court. He could do little more than send the ball back to Amane, but Yamaguchi refused to let the point die.

Finally, Amane brought his racket up slightly, and gave a short down stroke to return a forehand from Yamaguchi. The ball collected backspin from the racket and arched lazily toward the net. A drop shot. Yamaguchi was dashing forward in long, ground-eating strides, but still he was too far. The ball bounced once, close to the net, and Yamaguchi dove, his racket stretched in front of him. It slipped underneath the second bounce, and Yamaguchi flicked his wrist, sending the ball back into the air. He landed on the hard court surface with a thud, staring forward.

The diving shot had so little power that the ball hardly seemed to move. It traveled up in a tight parabola, cresting just above the net, and dropped into Amane's court. Amane was still near the baseline. He didn't even try to reach the ball. It bounced once, twice, three times, and rolled to a stop. "Advantage server." Yamaguchi stood, brushing himself off.

A cheer erupted from the Hida players, and from the crowd, as Yamaguchi walked back to the baseline. Kousaku heard Kamishimizu behind him begin to chant, "Hida! Hida! Hida!" The other players took it up, and even a few of the spectators in the stands joined in.

At the baseline, Yamaguchi turned his head and gave Kousaku a small smile. Not a happy smile, though; a determined smile. Yamaguchi was not going to let this game slip away. He tossed the ball and brought his left hand around to strike it. The ball came away from the racket like a rocket, speeding toward Amane's service court. Until it caught on the tape at the top of the net. The ball went over, but its angle had changed. It flew into the backcourt before finally catching the ground. "Fault."

Again, Yamaguchi seemed to freeze. Kousaku muttered under his breath and considered yelling at the boy to just get on with it. His hands tightened, finding purchase in his cotton tennis shorts.

Finally, Yamaguchi began again. But this time, he kept the racket in his left hand. Tossing with his right, he leaned back to watch the ball's path through the air. When it slowed to a stop overhead, just before beginning its descent, Yamaguchi snapped around, bringing his arm forward in a circular arc. Sunlight glinted off the racket's frame, flashing in Kousaku's eyes. He couldn't see the ball as it leapt away, but he could hear a soft crack. Two soft cracks, actually. Followed by the voice of the chair umpire.

"Game, Hida. Six games to five. Hikaru Amane to serve. Change court."

Yamaguchi walked toward the bench, staring down at his hands. He was gripping the racket in his right hand now, but he seemed to be paying just as much attention to both. Finally, he came to a stop in front of Kousaku.

"Ando-sensei, I think I sprained my wrist on that last serve." His voice was pitched low, too low for the umpire to overhear.

Kousaku just stared at the boy for a moment. A sprained wrist. Now. He swore under his breath. "All right, Yamaguchi. We'll call for a break, have one of the medics look at it, maybe wrap it. Do you think you can…?"

Yamaguchi cut him off. "No. I can play like this, Sensei. I just thought you should know. I'll get it looked at after the match. But first, I want to win."

Kousaku nodded. "Fine. But finish it fast. And don't push it with your wrist. I don't want you making it any worse. If you do, I'm calling for that break whether you like it or not."

Yamaguchi bowed quickly and walked around the net to the opposite court. Amane was already in position, waiting to serve. As soon as Yamaguchi had taken his place, Amane let fly.

The serve was high and fast, coming at an angle only Amane's racket could reach. It went to the outside corner of the service court. Yamaguchi ran after it, but the angle and speed of the ball were perfect, enough to earn Amane a service ace. "Fifteen; love."

Yamaguchi walked to the backhand court and squared himself to receive the next serve. It came quickly – Amane seemed to be anxious to settle this game himself. The serve was much the same, high and fast, pointed at the outside of the service court, but not quite as well-timed as the last one. Yamaguchi got under the ball, and swung his racket with both hands. It was the same swing he had used to beat Amane's serve in the last game, and it worked again here. The ball flashed away, toward Amane. It struck the court at the Rokkaku player's feet. "Fifteen all."

Yamaguchi was too far away for Kousaku to see him clearly, but he thought the boy was clenching his teeth. If Yamaguchi hurt himself here…. At least he would have a long rest. Assuming he won. A longer rest if he didn't. Kousaku turned to look over his shoulder again.

"Can he still do it, Sunama?" _Can he still win?_

"I'm sorry, Sensei. I don't know."

Kousaku nodded expressionlessly, turning back to the game.

Amane was serving again. Again, a high, fast serve toward the outside. Yamaguchi ran for it, holding his racket in both hands. The boy was going to hurt himself. Kousaku came to his feet, ready to tell the umpire to suspend the match for Yamaguchi's wrist.

Then a grin flickered on Yamaguchi's face, and he slid his left hand off the racket, bringing the head up at an angle. As the serve came over the net, he flicked his racket downward for a drop-shot.

It was risky. Serves had so much power that hitting a drop return was very difficult. And Yamaguchi's drop shots weren't that good to begin with. The ball cleared the net and fell into Amane's service court, though it was too deep.

Amane should have had no trouble returning it, but the Rokkaku player was waiting for Yamaguchi's return ace. He didn't register the drop-shot for half a second. Then, Amane lunged forward, reaching out with his racket to swat at the ball. He connected, just before the ball made its second bounce, and the ball went back toward Yamaguchi.

And smacked into the tape lining the top of the net. The ball had been too low when Amane caught it, and with that long-handled racket he didn't have as much control over the angle of return as he would with a standard racket. Yamaguchi's gamble had paid off. "Fifteen; thirty."

The players returned to position, and Amane served again. Yamaguchi returned with a simple backhand, sparking another rally. But Yamaguchi's movements seemed to be getting slower, minute by minute. He was past his limit. The energy that had kept him in the match was starting to ebb. It had to end soon.

A cross-court forehand from Amane slipped just outside the reach of Yamaguchi's racket. Yamaguchi crashed to his knees as it flew by, doubled over and panting. He dropped his racket, pushing himself up with his hands. A wince, as Yamaguchi's left wrist started supporting his body weight, told Kousaku that the injury was worse than Yamaguchi wanted to admit. "Thirty all."

The boy struggled to his feet and retrieved the racket before going back into position to retrieve. Another serve from Amane brought another rally. Yamaguchi knew he couldn't trust his wrist for another return ace. But Yamaguchi was noticeably slower now, and Amane took advantage by making him run back and forth across the court, stretching him farther and farther.

Yamaguchi's strokes were becoming more and more erratic as he lunged across the court to catch Amane's shots. Finally, Amane placed a forehand in the extreme left corner of Yamaguchi's court. Yamaguchi lurched toward it, trying to get there in time. He managed to get his racket behind the ball for a weak forehand, but the ball struck the upper edge of the racket, just below the frame. It made a tinny noise, rather than the full-throated twang of a solid hit, and flew back to the net.

The shot, so wild, didn't go clear. It struck the tape border at the top of the net, and Kousaku felt his breath catch in his throat. And then, with the last of its momentum, the ball bounced over the top and fell to a standstill in Amane's court. "Thirty; forty. Match point."

Another cheer rose from the Hida squad, a mirror of the Rokkaku cheer from three games earlier. "One more point! One more point!" Kamishimizu began it, and the others soon took it up. All of them but Kousaku. And Sunama. Kousaku turned again, to look at the boy, and opened his mouth to speak. Sunama cut him short, his voice calm but terse. "Watch."

Amane was frowning. He raked a hand through his hair, brushing it's now-tangled mass away from his eyes. He cocked his racket and launched a tennis ball high overhead. Bringing the racket around, Amane smashed the ball cleanly toward the inside corner of Yamaguchi's service court.

Yamaguchi was waiting, both hands wrapped around the handle of his racket. As the ball came to him, he swung the racket edge-on in a forehand. He twisted his wrists at the last second, using his right hand to bring the racket face around. A scream ripped from his throat; whether for the pain, or for the point, Kousaku wasn't sure. The ball struck against the strings and leapt away, loaded with backspin. It crossed the net, but instead of bounding, the ball sank into a slice, easily dodging beneath Amane's racket. It cracked into the court surface and bounded up and back, far out of reach.

"Game, set, won by Daisaku Yamaguchi, seven games to five."

The Hida players were all on their feet, cheering. Yamaguchi spared them a glance and a smile before turning toward the far side of the court, where a medical crew was waiting in the stands.

Kousaku turned to watch his players. For a moment, all the tension, all the fear seemed to be gone. Even Sunama's lips were bent upward at the corners. Kousaku could understand the feeling perfectly. Yamaguchi had won. In all likelihood, that meant Hida had bought a place in the next round. Unless something happened to Sunama or Kamishimizu. Now, it was just a matter of waiting.

Kousaku wanted to congratulate Yamaguchi himself. The boy had played a spectacular game, better than anyone had thought him capable of. And Kousaku wanted to have a look at that wrist for himself. It would spell trouble if Yamaguchi couldn't use it in the next round. He began walking across the court, toward the two paramedics now looking over Yamaguchi's injured wrist.

With a last thought, Kousaku turned his head and called over his shoulder. "Hirohito. Tetsuya. Suit up."


	7. The Weight of Water

A Brief Introduction by the Author

Singles Three is finished, maybe in more ways than one, and it's time for Hida's premiere doubles pair to take the court. This chapter follows Hirohito Ito, the club captain, as he and his brother try to take down the Rokkaku pair of Ryou Kisaradu and Harukaze Kurobane. In keeping with tradition, we'll give you a brief look at Hirohito in this installment of the Dark Horse OC spotlight.

**Hirohito Ito (3rd year)**- As Hida's Team Captain, Hirohito is one half of Doubles One, along with his (fraternal) twin brother Tetsuya. Hirohito has been playing since he was very little, and in a pure-skills competition, he is a better player than even Seiichi and Sunama. His only fault is his occasional lack of insight into the world around him. Hirohito is usually a very pleasant person to be around, but the stress of the national tournament has brought him close to his limit and he hasn't been himself lately. Hirohito is a little taller than average, with wild black hair and green eyes. On any other day, he loves to play pranks on people and has a very large and infectious grin. (For an image of the real Hirohito, imagine Sorata Arisugawa from _X/1999_ and make the hair a bit spikier)

_Play Style_: All-Rounder  
_Plays_: Right-handed  
_Height_: 175cm  
_Weight_: 56kg  
_Blood Type_: A  
_Birthday_: 16 July

One last incidental note: The earthquake that just hit Japan on 25 March 2007 (less than a week before this chapter was first published) happened just off the coast of Ishikawa Prefecture, in exactly the location I discuss in this chapter. An unexpected coincidence. Thank you for your time.

* * *

**Dark Horse**

_Chapter 7 – The Weight of Water_

* * *

Ishikawa Prefecture was beautiful in the fall. Red stained the leaves of the maple trees growing on the northern peninsula. The air was warm, the cold bite of winter still a few months away. Lush forest lined the back-country roads, so unlike the busy cityscapes of metropolitan Japan. 

Hirohito was seven years old. His parents were taking him and Tetsuya to the sea this weekend. Hiro had never been to the sea before, and excitement kept him bouncing in his seat. Beside him, Tetsuya looked merely happy. But Tetsuya had been taking swimming lessons for the last two years. For him, swimming in the sea must not seem all that different from his weekly classes. For Hiro, this experience was all new.

Hiro had been swimming before, of course. He and Tetsuya went to the municipal pool once every month or two. But Hiro was only a passable swimmer, and as much as he enjoyed it, he didn't have the same interest that Tetsuya did. When their mother had first asked them about swimming lessons, Tetsuya had nearly squealed, he was so excited. But Hiro had decided to do something else. He'd been taking beginning tennis classes for a couple years now. It was hard, and the rackets and balls seemed so big, but he did enjoy it. Still, it would be more fun if Tetsuya came and played too.

The car glided around a turn, and the forest thinned so that Hiro could make out the sea in the distance. The water shimmered, reflecting the sunlight. Hiro's father pulled off into a large parking lot. The lot was surprisingly empty, holding less than ten other cars.

"Okay, you two. We're here." Hiro's mother turned around to smile at the boys in the back seat. "Your dad and I are going to get out the towels and the umbrella, and then we'll have some lunch, but until then, you can go swim. We'll come in later, after lunch, and we can all play together."

Hiro couldn't keep himself from cheering as he fumbled for the button to release his seat belt. "Really, Mom? Can we go swimming before lunch?"

His father turned off the ignition before turning to the back seat. "If your mother says it's all right, yes, you can. But remember to stay close to Tetsuya, Hiro. And Tetsuya, you make sure Hiro doesn't get in any trouble. I figure we'll have lunch ready in about half an hour, so make sure you're back soon unless you want me to eat all the onigiri. I'm hungry, you know. Driving's hard work." He gave a wink and unlocked the doors from the front seat.

Hiro was off and running almost before Tetsuya could get out of his seat.

* * *

"Game, set, won by Daisaku Yamaguchi, seven games to five." 

Hirohito was on his feet with all the other players, cheering for Daisaku. He could hardly believe Hida had won their first set in the national tournament. It seemed impossible. Daisaku had never played that well, not even in the Tokai finals. With a win from Daisaku, the first match was almost clinched. But that injury….

Ando-sensei hurried across the court to Daisaku, worry creasing his face. He turned once to shout back over his shoulder. "Hirohito. Tetsuya. Suit up."

Hiro stood smoothly, shrugging his shoulders to make his jacket drop to the seat behind him. The cloth made a light-blue-and-black mound on the bench. He turned to Tetsuya, and found his brother rummaging in his equipment bag for his tennis racket. "Well, Tetsu, let's do this." Hiro smiled as he said it, but Tetsuya just gave a small nod without saying anything or even turning to meet Hiro's eyes. That was unusual. Tetsuya was always full of energy before a match, completely unable to conceal his excitement. Hiro hoped his brother wasn't beginning to get nervous. Nerves could take Tetsu off his game. Not that it mattered, though. Not really. He and Tetsuya would win this set even if Hiro had to play the whole thing himself. Doing well in this tournament was important to a lot of people.

Moreso, Hiro knew doing well in this tournament meant a lot to Tetsuya. Tetsu held it in, now, but he had always been the more competitive one, even when they were little. Hiro wouldn't let the team fail, wouldn't let his brother fail, no matter what it took. Hida was going to go all the way. Because, Hiro knew, that would make Tetsuya happy.

Pulling his own racket from his bag, Hiro made his way down to the court. He could hear Tetsuya trailing him silently. He clicked his tongue in irritation – this was no time for Tetsu to start acting funny – but he let it be for now. The two of them strode to the net, facing off against the two Rokkaku players.

"Doubles Two will now begin. The best of one set match. Hirohito Ito and Tetsuya Ito of Hida versus Ryou Kisaradu and Harukaze Kurobane of Rokkaku. Rokkaku pair to serve!" The announcer's voice rang out above the crowd, quieting the spectators. Hirohito reached across the net to shake the hand of a player about his height with dark, feathery hair. Beside him, Tetsuya greeted another player who wore a cap pulled down over his own long black hair. The one with the cap, Kisaradu, gave a small smile before dropping Tetsuya's hand.

"Gonna be a good game, don'cha think, Ryou?" The player across from Hiro tilted his head back and stared toward the sun, wind ruffling his hair. Hiro followed his gaze and saw a large black crow circling over the stadium, gliding lazily on the breeze. "Seems like a nice day to fly." Kurobane shot a grin at his partner and turned from the net, walking back toward the baseline.

Hirohito turned to the right, words of encouragement already on his lips, but he found that Tetsuya was already walking back to the baseline to receive Kurobane's first serve. He walked with his head bowed, fiddling with the strings on his racket. In three years, Hirohito had never seen Tetsuya play with his strings before a match. Why now? Was there something wrong with him?

"Hey, Hida. You ready to play, or you just gonna stand there?" The voice from across the net was soft and light, and brought Hirohito's head around. Kisaradu shot that same secretive smile at Hiro.

The crack of the first serve took Hiro by surprise, as he was still looking at the Rokkaku net player. "Fifteen; love." An ace? Hiro turned to see Tetsuya walking forward to the net, his eyes fixed to the court surface. He couldn't make out the expression on his brother's face.

Hiro turned, striding toward his own half of the baseline to receive the next serve. When it came, it was high and fast, bounding above Hiro's regular forehand reach. He had to catch the ball with a kind of half-smash to catch it, and his control was weak in the return. The shot flew straight to the net, and Kisaradu put it away with an easy smash. "Thirty; love."

"Looks like he serves like Iwasa, Tetsu. Just be careful and you should be able to catch them." Hirohito forced a smile onto his face as he walked by his brother, and gave him a pat on the back. Tetsuya stumbled a step before continuing to the service line, still silent.

The next serve came high again, and this time Tetsuya returned it without difficulty. The ball sliced into the backcourt, forcing Kurobane to catch it with a rising backhand. The Rokkaku player's return made a smooth, slow arc toward Tetsuya, but Hiro took a chance, lunging across the net to volley the ball into the open side of Rokkaku's backcourt. He barely kept himself from falling, but Hiro's shot struck clean and rebounded back to the court wall. "Thirty; fifteen."

The next serve went wide, and Hiro returned the slower second serve with a quick overhead snap not far different from his own serve that managed to fall outside the reach of either Rokkaku player. "Thirty all," the chair umpire's voice rang out. Hiro smiled to himself. Rokkaku's Doubles Two wasn't any stronger than he'd expected. With Sunama playing next, Hida would probably have their first round sewn up in three sets.

Kurobane's next serve to Tetsuya looked the same as the one before, quick and with a high bound. Tetsuya met it with the same return, and Kurobane was forced into the same rising backhand to return the ball. What worked once….

Hiro leapt across court to catch the shot before it could slip into the backcourt. He stretched his right arm, racket outstretched… and watched in dumb silence as the ball that he had thought barely controlled twisted farther and farther out of his reach, sliding around his racket and striking in the backcourt. Hiro was still trying to regain his footing when he heard the pluck of strings announcing that Tetsuya had managed to intercept the shot he had missed. The ball flew toward him, using Hiro's position to disguise the trajectory to the Rokkaku players – that was a favorite tactic of Tetsuya's. But still off-balance, Hiro's elbow glanced off the ball as he righted himself. The ball bounced into the net and left a stinging impression on Hiro's skin. "Forty; thirty."

Hiro rounded on Tetsuya angrily. "That was too close, Tetsu! You have to be more careful if you want to win!" He was surprised at the sharpness in his own voice. Hiro never spoke to his brother like that. Never before today, at least. He bit his lip to keep from saying more. It wasn't really Tetsuya's fault, and Hiro knew it. Hiro should have known better than to try for the volley, and Tetsuya had only played as well as he could given the circumstances.

When he had returned to the backcourt, Hiro turned to face Kurobane's serve again. The ball came lower this time, and Hiro returned it with a smooth forehand. Kisaradu caught the shot and tried to lob it into the backcourt away from Hirohito, but Tetsuya was right there with him. Tetsuya's jump brought him high into the air, and he caught the ball easily. Kurobane was advancing on the net, and Tetsuya's shot went straight for the extreme right of the Rokkaku backcourt.

And then Kurobane seemed to freeze for a moment, his knees flexing. The Rokkaku player launched himself into the air as well, his jump easily as high as Tetsuya's. Kurobane's body spun like a top, and the back face of his racket connected with the ball. The return slipped right past Tetsuya before he could bring his racket to bear. "Game Rokkaku. Change courts."

Hirohito felt his lungs begin to tighten.

* * *

The sun-soaked sand was warm against Hiro's feet. He mashed it with his toes as he stared ahead. The sea stretched away in front of him, a billowing curtain of dark blue. 

"Are you still not ready, Hiro!?" Tetsuya's voice rang with impatience. He stood a few meters further down the beach, with the breakers already surging around his calves. "The water's warm. What are you waiting for?"

Hiro didn't know how to explain that he was fixing the picture in his mind. It wasn't something Tetsuya would do. Tetsuya was always too busy to stop and enjoy himself. Twins or not, there were some things Hiro just didn't know how to tell his brother about. "Sorry, Tetsu! I'll be right there!"

Tetsuya smiled and turned, plodding further into the sea. Hiro reached him before Tetsuya was up to his waist. Hiro had lots of practice running from his tennis classes. The water was a little cold at first, but Hiro got used to it quickly. Tetsuya had been right. The sea was surprisingly warm for October.

As Hiro pushed ahead, stomping out into the water, Tetsuya shot him a challenging frown. "Bet you're not so fast when we go under!" Without another word, Tetsuya dived forward and began stroking further out to sea. Hiro laughed and jumped into the waves himself. They caught him, and Hiro reached his hands forward to pull himself further into the water. Already, Tetsuya was more than a meter away.

Before he knew it, Hiro was well into the sea himself. When he stopped for a moment to look back at the shore, Hiro was surprised to see how small it looked. He could just make out his mother and father, high up on the beach under a big sun-umbrella. The sea swelled around him, pushing him up and down in the slow rhythm of the rising tide.

The sound of small splashes told Hiro that Tetsuya had turned around and was swimming back to him. Hiro looked toward the open ocean and saw his brother powering smoothly through the waves. Hiro paddled forward to meet him.

"So, Hiro, what do you think? Swimming fun?" Tetsuya's face was split by a broad grin as he treaded water.

"Yeah, of course it's fun. I always like swimming. You know that Tetsu."

A light glinted in Tetsuya's eyes and his grin sharpened. "Well, then why don't you give up on tennis and join my swimming class? Then we can learn together."

One of the swells took Hiro by surprise, momentarily submerging him. He coughed as he came back up, the taste of salt-water strong in his mouth. "But I like tennis, Tetsu. You'd like it too, I know you would." Tetsuya was always so competitive. He would have loved tennis.

"I don't even see why you keep doing it, Hiro. You're always complaining about how everything is too big and how hard it is to swing the racket."

"Yeah, but..." Hiro's voice died on his lips. He didn't know how to explain. Tennis... was just right. Tennis was what Hiro wanted to do. He loved it. Even if it was hard sometimes.

"Oh, whatever." Tetsuya's voice held a note of exasperation. "You'll give up on it soon enough, anyway. I really wish you'd come do swimming classes with me, though."

Hiro sighed. It was hard to argue with Tetsuya. Hiro's brother knew exactly what he wanted, and most of the time what Tetsuya wanted was for Hiro to do the same thing he was doing. The hardest part was, Hiro always wanted to go along with Tetsuya too. "I don't know, Tetsu... Maybe. We'll see." But Hiro really did want to keep learning tennis.

It was enough. Tetsuya smiled, and punched Hiro's shoulder. "Hey, bro, wanna try playing tag? We do that at class. It's really fun."

"Sure, I guess, if you wa-"

"Cool! You're it!" Tetsuya batted Hiro over the head and dived under, slipping out of Hiro's reach. Hiro dived after him and just caught him by the ankle. He pulled himself around and tried to stroke away before Tetsuya could catch him again.

They kept it up for almost twenty minutes. Tetsu was right, underwater tag was really fun. Then Hiro heard the sound of his father shouting from the beach that the food was ready. Panting, Hiro treaded water a moment and waited for Tetsuya to surface.

His brother's head popped up through the waves a meter away, and Tetsuya took a long breath to fill his lungs. Hiro shouted at him before he could go back under. "Hey, Tetsu! Dad's calling! We should go get some lunch."

Tetsuya nodded, still breathing deeply, and gave Hiro a smile. "Okay. Maybe you'll do a better job catching me after you have something to eat." He turned and began swimming back to the beach without another glance at Hiro.

For his part, Hiro paddled back slowly. His arms and legs were tired from trying to chase Tetsuya underwater. Hiro had forgotten how much hard work went into swimming. No matter what Tetsuya said, Hiro knew he wouldn't be doing any catching up after lunch. But that was fine; after lunch their parents would come in, and Mom and Dad would help keep Tetsu occupied.

Hiro could see Tetsuya still swimming strong, as fast as ever on his way back for lunch. Tetsuya was outpacing him easily. Hiro tried to swim faster, but his legs felt like lead weights. Sighing, he slowed his pace to keep from wearing himself out any more than he already was. Hiro tried to relax his muscles, still tense from the long stretch of tag swimming.

Tetsuya was already climbing out onto the sand when the cramp started. It began as a twinge in Hiro's left calf, but then the twinge grew, became a writhing, stabbing pain as the muscles knotted themselves into uselessness. Hiro pulled himself forward with his arms, working his right leg and trying to keep his left from moving too much. But the left leg dragged. A rising swell came up behind Hiro and nearly pushed him under before he could pull himself up and forward with his arms. Then another came, and another. The third pushed Hiro underwater for a moment, and he kicked his legs instinctively, trying to get his head above water.

The knot constricted, and Hiro's mouth opened to shout at the pain. Some sound emerged, but water rushed in as well. Hiro coughed, and found he was coughing into the water. Another swell surged forward, pushing him under completely.

* * *

"Game, Hida. Three games all." Hirohito doubled over, panting. 

Six games. Six games against the Rokkaku second squad, and he and Tetsuya were only even. The set should have been over, or close to it. But Tetsuya... Anger ground at Hirohito. His hands on his knees knotted into fists, clenching around the thin blue polyester of his shorts.

"What the hell, Tetsuya!?" Hirohito never yelled at his brother. Never. "I'm playing alone out here! When are you going to start acting like the brother I know!?"

Tetsuya stood at the edge of the service box, his back to Hiro. He never moved a muscle, never gave the smallest hint of turning around to face the tirade.

"Hida," barked the chair umpire. "Get yourself under control. I've already warned you twice. Play will continue, Rokkaku Kisaradu to serve."

Hirohito shoved down the scream he could feel building in his throat. What the hell was wrong with Tetsuya? Hiro couldn't play this match alone. He squared himself, watching his opponent across the net. Kisaradu tossed the ball high, arching back to follow it with his eyes. The Rokkaku player leapt a little to catch the ball at the peak of the toss, hitting a flat serve across the net. Kisaradu's serves didn't have the power of Kurobane's, but they were still strong.

Switching to his backhand , Hirohito caught the ball on the bounce and returned it with a high-topspin shot. The ball went back to Kisaradu, bounding up in front of him. Kisaradu returned it smoothly with a short lob over Tetsuya's head.

Tetsuya jumped and caught it, barely, smashing the ball into the backcourt between the two Rokkaku players. Well, at least he wasn't asleep. _Still_, Hirohito thought to himself, _that shot would have been an easy return for Tetsuya any other day_. Hirohito didn't even turn to look at his brother as he moved to the net and Tetsuya returned to the baseline to receive the next serve.

Kisaradu faulted his first attempt, and then gave Tetsuya a high-topspin serve that jumped out of the service court at the same height as Tetsu's head. Tetsuya brought his racket forward to make an opportunisitic smash, and the ball flew low over the net, toward Kurobane. Standing in the center of the service court, Kurobane had to bend his knees to catch the ball. His return was weak, and it struck the top of the net before falling back into the Rokkaku court. "Love; thirty." Luck, or was Tetsuya finally starting to play?

Hirohito walked back to the baseline and received the next serve, fast and centered, easily. It sparked a rally between him and Kisaradu, hit and return, hit and return. At the lower levels, and even in the Tokai tournament, rallies had been enough to win some points. This was the national tournament, though. No one here would make mistakes at that level. Hirohito aimed to take the point with a forehand slice to the left border court. The ball cleared the net by a hair and struck near the forecourt line, skidding away to the left. But Kisaradu was fast. He had seen the shot coming, and he sprinted to get in front of it. With a lunge, Kisaradu caught the ball and sent it back.

The ball cleared the net on Hirohito's side of the court, but it was an easy return. Hiro brought his racket low and hit a high, arching lob to clear Kurobane, facing him at the net. But again Kurobane proved as good as his name, launching himself in the air with a spin and slamming the back face of his wooden racket into the ball in a return smash. The ball was going right, to Hiro's side of the court. Back in action or not, there was no way Tetsuya could catch it. Diving, Hirohito stretched out his racket for the ball. It caught, plucking the strings at the tip of his racket and jumping away just before Hirohito thudded into the ground, his breath knocked out of him.

"Love; forty," the chair umpire called. Hirohito coughed, trying to make his lungs fill again, and pushed himself up from the ground. His arm looked red where he had landed on it, scratched up by the court surface, but thankfully not bleeding. Triple break point. This was what the match should have looked like all along. If Tetsuya had been playing his half of the match, instead of forcing Hiro to cover for him.

Hirohito coughed again as he took position at the net. The next serve came fast, but clipped the net tape and fell back into the Rokkaku court. Kisaradu seemed to be weak on his backhand service side. The second serve was slower, and loaded with topspin again. It curved down as it cleared the net and bounded high for Tetsuya. Tetsuya aimed his return to the extreme left, and the ball slipped past Kurobane's racket, bouncing near the baseline. But again, Kisaradu was fast. The Rokkaku player managed to cross the full baseline and strike a high lob. The ball was arching over Hirohito, and looked like it would fall just inside the border court. Hiro ran to catch it, and aimed a return into the backcourt on Rokkaku's right side, opened when Kisaradu rushed for Tetsuya's return. Kurobane was already switching sides at the net, though, and he put the ball away with a quick reaching volley shot. "Fifteen; forty."

Hirohito clicked his tongue in irritation as he went to take his place in the backcourt to receive the next serve. Again, Kisaradu's forehand-side serve was clean, but Hirohito caught it with an easy backhand. Another rally, but this time Kisaradu sought to end it. The Rokkaku player turned as the ball came toward him, and hit a lob of his own over Tetsuya's head. High over Tetsuya's head. Hirohito wasn't sure his brother could have jumped high enough to hit that shot even if he had been playing his best tennis. Hiro began to rush toward the ball, planning to catch it in the backcourt himself, until he saw just how high the lob had gone. He stopped with a smile. Clearly out. Kisaradu might be able to lob over Tetsuya's reach, but it hardly mattered if he couldn't keep the lob inside the court. Hirohito turned back to the net, walking forward to take position for Tetsuya's service game.

"Thirty; forty." Hiro's feet froze. He turned his head and saw the ball bouncing away, much closer to the baseline than it should have been.

"I call that one my sky-high volley," Kisaradu's silky voice called from across the net. "Not even Bane and Davide get high enough to reach it. If you hadn't stopped running, you might have managed to catch the bounce, though, Hida." The cap on the Rokkaku player's head obscured his face except for a wide smile. He waved a finger chidingly.

"How did you- That shot was out, I'm sure of it." Still-simmering anger heated Hirohito's face.

"Topspin, Hida. I'd think you'd have known that, the way you play. The ball curves back on its way down." Hirohito found himself hating that icy calm. _Cold-blooded. Like a snake,_ he thought to himself.

"That's enough, Rokkaku. Get back to your line." The chair umpire's patience sounded like it was wearing thin.

Hirohito tried to check his temper as he walked back to the right forecourt. The score was still against Rokkaku. If Hida could win the next point, they would take their first break. Hirohito was not going to lose - was not going to let Tetsuya lose - to a number two squad.

Kisaradu walked to the right side of the baseline and bounced the tennis ball once against the ground. His head whipped around to give Hirohito a cold smile, so fast Hiro almost missed it, before he began his next serve. This time, the first serve wasn't flat, though. It was a topspin serve, but stronger than the two he'd hit before. The ball curved down just past the net and slammed against the left service court. It almost seemed to spin backwards for a moment before lifting away in a second tall arc. Tetsuya ran ahead to meet it with another return smash, but the ball's path continued to curve in. Tetsuya stretched forward in response. The racket caught the ball, but at a bad angle now, and sent it spinning into the base of the net. "Deuce."

Hirohito felt a hollowness form in the pit of his stomach. He would not lose to this Rokkaku pair. He felt like iron bands were tightening around his chest. Three breakpoints, and they'd let them all slip away so easily. Their best chance at taking the lead in this match. Hirohito breathed deeply, trying to calm himself as he walked back to the service line, but those iron bands wouldn't go away. He couldn't let the tension take him under. Turning, Hirohito faced Kisaradu and prepared to receive.

The serve was high again, filled with topspin. Hirohito had seen Tetsuya try for it and miss. He rushed forward to meet the serve himself, keeping the spin in mind. The ball bounced high, and for a moment Hiro thought he might have overrun the path. But... no, he was right where he needed to be. Hirohito brought his racket to his back and snapped it forward in the same motion he used to serve. A hard hit to time, but Hirohito's own rising-toss serve had trained him to make just this sort of shot. He connected smoothly, and the ball flew back to Kisaradu just as fast as it had come.

Kisaradu looked surprised for a moment. The ball was going to the far corner of the court, and it looked to be out of his reach. Then, just as quickly, Kisaradu switched the racket into his left hand and pirouetted on his right foot. He extended his arm to the side, racket first flat, and then spinning to show the face just as it connected with the ball. Struck off the back side of the racket, with Kisaradu facing the back wall of the court. A blind return.

And yet, it was an excellent shot. Hirohito, still moving forward from his initial rush, caught the return at the net and batted it down with a quick forehand volley. He glanced left, and saw Tetsuya at the net with him. Hirohito felt a smile come to his lips - having both players at the net was a strong formation in doubles. It made return volleying easy, when each player only had to cover half the forecourt. Hirohito turned his attention back to the Rokkaku side.

Hiro had hoped that the volley would be a winner, but Kisaradu was just too fast. It looked like he would reach the ball before it slipped past him. Kisaradu dropped his racket, nearly touching the ground with it, and brought it up in a wide arc, sliding along the surface of the ball. A lob, but Tetsuya could...

_No!_ The thought thundered in Hiro's head. _Not again, not this time. I can get to it._ Hiro started to run backwards, his eyes trained on the ball overhead. Back, back, still back. The ball hung in the air, so high overhead. A lob that high was slow, and Hiro would have time to get under it. As the ball dropped, Hiro swung his racket in a powerful smash...

And felt nothing. He looked down and found himself standing a full quarter of a meter behind the baseline. The ball would curve back in, Kisaradu had said. The ball had curved and missed Hirohito's racket. It was the same mistake Tetsuya had made against Kisaradu's topspin serve. "Advantage server."

As he walked forward to take his position near the net for the next point, Hiro growled as he passed Tetsuya. "Don't miss this one, Tetsu. I'm counting on you. We're better than them." Hirohito didn't even bother to look for a reaction on his brother's face.

The iron bands felt tighter than ever, cutting off his air. Hirohito could hear himself breathing in quick, shallow breaths, but he couldn't seem to make his lungs fill further. He stared anxiously as Kisaradu tossed the ball, as he sprang forward with that same little hop. Hirohito couldn't help himself; he followed the ball with his eyes, waited for it to spin and fall as it crossed the net. But it didn't fall. It seemed to speed up. Hirohito saw Tetsuya running forward to intercept the high bound of a topspin serve, but this serve didn't have the topspin of all the serves Tetsuya had received so far. It had... Did it? Yes. Backspin. Weak, and unpracticed, but this was a backspin serve. It landed just inside Tetsuya's service court, and bounded low, well under the high shot Tetsuya was aiming to take. The ball skittered away to the back wall as Tetsuya stared at where it should have come, at the return he should have made. "Game, Rokkaku. Four games to three."

Hirohito rounded on Tetsuya, his eyes blazing. "Tetsuya! What was that? You know how to read a backspin serve! I had you practicing with Seiichi all afternoon yesterday! How could you miss that!?" A part of Hirohito seemed to watch from outside, uncomprehending. How could he be shouting at his own brother? He had made as many mistakes as Tetsu this game. How could he be blaming his brother for his own errors? "What the hell are you doing today? Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to play tennis!?"

And then, the part of Hiro that was watching took its first real look at Tetsuya. Hiro's brother's face was tight with anger itself, and tears were running down his cheeks. Hiro hadn't seen Tetsuya cry in... in years, he thought.

"Shut up, Hiro! Just shut up! This is your fault too. Shut up and play the game!"

The iron bands closed like a vice, cutting off all air.

* * *

Hiro couldn't breathe. 

All around him was only water. The swells had pushed him under, and his cramping muscles wouldn't seem to move. Adrenaline surged through his system, which only made the pain stronger. He knew the surface lay somewhere above him, and he knew just as surely that he would never reach it.

The water, the warm, inviting sea water pressed in on him like a vise. Water had gotten into his lungs when he was first pushed under, and now he found himself coughing into the sea. Coughing, so that more water could rush in.

Hiro thrashed his arms again, trying to pull himself upward, but he didn't seem to move. He kicked his legs, but the pain that shot through him nearly blanked his mind. There was nothing to do but wait. His eyes stung.

Hiro knew he was crying. He could feel the tension in his eyes that came whenever he cried. But the tears, like everything else, were washing away in the gently rocking sea.

With the air gone from his lungs, Hiro began to sink. He could see the light from the surface dimming slowly. The water felt heavier now. He'd never noticed it before. The water had a weight to it, even swimming. It pressed down on him, it pressed against his chest. It was almost comforting at first, like being hugged by his father. But it kept getting heavier, until Hiro felt like the water was trying to crush him. Not that it mattered, since he couldn't breathe.

It was ironic in a way. Hiro had enjoyed swimming with his brother so much. In his mind, he had even started to give up the thought of tennis. If Hiro joined the swimming classes, he could be with his brother all the time. Tetsu was right. And if Hiro had learned that earlier, if Hiro had learned to swim with Tetsu, then this probably wouldn't be happening.

_I'm sorry, Tetsuya. This is all my fault._

The pressure on Hiro's eyes was too strong, and he shut them hoping to save himself that little bit of pain. There was nothing to see anyway. He felt something thud into his stomach as he passed out, sure he must have fallen to the bottom. Sure he must already be dead.

When he opened his eyes, it was in no place he knew. Hiro could see a white ceiling and white drapes, all around a white bed. The room was empty, save for him and a thin electronic hum. For a few moments, he wondered if this might not be where people went when they died. Then the drapes flew back and all the breath was knocked out of him when Tetsu jumped on top of him, rattling the bed.

"You're okay, Hiro! Oh God... When I heard you yelling... I saw you get pulled under. Dad tried to swim out to get you, but he was still wearing all his clothes."

"I... What? Where am I?" Hiro coughed, fighting to get his breath back. He felt like his lungs were on fire.

"You're in a hospital, Hiro." His father walked around in front of the bed, cradling his mother's hand. "I'm just glad there was one so close to the beach. I was afraid there wouldn't be a hospital until we made it back to Wajima City."

"What.. happened?" Hiro's voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

"Your father tried to swim out to get you," Hiro's mother started in a weak voice.

Hiro's father shook his head. "I tried, but Tetsuya's the one who got to you. I've never seen him swim so fast. He found you and brought you up. I just helped him bring you back to the shore. It's a good think your mom knows CPR, too, or it might not have mattered."

It hurt, but Hiro managed a weak laugh. "I think maybe I should join those swimming lessons, Tetsu. Looks like I need them." The thought of going back in the water right now frightened Hiro more than he could say, but he wasn't willing to let being afraid of a thing stop him from doing it.

Tetsu pushed himself up off Hiro and shook his head firmly. "No way. No way, no way. We're doing tennis from now on, Hiro, and I don't care what you say."

* * *

"Shut up! I don't care what you have to say, Hiro!" 

Hirohito stood, mouth open, gaping at his brother. Tetsuya brought his racket above his head for the serve and sent the ball cross-court. Hiro turned to follow it, and saw Kurobane hit a low forehand return toward the outside of Hiro's side of the court. Hiro lunged, and missed. "Fifteen, all." Hirohito felt like his mind had gone numb.

Crossing to the other court, he tried to focus his attention on the match. Behind him, he could hear the sound of Tetsuya's next serve. It struck the net, and someone cursed loudly. Tetsuya? When had Tetsuya ever... Hiro couldn't seem to think straight.

Another serve, and another fault. "Fifteen; thirty."

"What the hell are you doing, Tetsuya? You served better than that when you were ten!" Someone was yelling at Hirohito's brother. "What the fuck?"

"Hida! Watch your language!" The chair umpire was on his feet, glaring at Hirohito. Hirohito glared back challengingly. "I've warned you enough today. Penalty point to Rokkaku. Fifteen; forty."

Tetsuya screamed. Hiro paced to the other side of the forecourt, anger making him grip his racket handle until his knuckles turned white. Across the net, Rokkaku's Kurobane looked concerned. Kisaradu looked smug.

The next serve came fast and high, passing so close to Hirohito's arm that he could feel the air move. It cracked into the court surface, and sidespin made it leap to the right. Kurobane hurried to intercept it, moving into the space just past the white line that marked the boundary of the court. The Rokkaku player hit a clean return, again down the line.

Hirohito's legs were moving before he could even think. He was there, in front of Kurobane's return. He took a fierce swing at the ball, and it ricocheted against the baseline, outside the reach of either Rokkaku player. "Thirty; forty." Hirohito grunted, half at getting the point, half at the awful form he'd resorted to.

As he walked to the other side, Hirohito tugged the strings on his racket back into place. He wanted to tear them, to tear the graphite racket in half.

The next serve came fast and flat, and it bounced in the middle of Kisaradu's service court. Kisaradu rushed forward and returned it with a jumping forehand. The ball sailed back to Tetsuya, who met it with a wide flick of his left wrist, keeping his racket parallel to his chest. Closing the Fan. Kisaradu took a step to the left, but the ball's bounce twisted it well out of his reach. It jumped away, leaving the side of the court. "Deuce."

"Why the heck weren't you playing like that three games ago, Tetsu? We could've won this match, if you hadn't been so-"

"I told you," Tetsuya began in a low growl, "to shut the hell up!" The last ended as a shout.

"Hida, if I have to tell you one more time, I'm disqualifying you. Now keep your tempers in check." The chair umpire's voice had an edge like a razor.

Hirohito swung at the air, walking back to the right-hand court. How many more games if they were to win? Three? And two to lose. _You're the captain of the team, _he told himself. _How can you be this out of control? Get it together!_

Tetsuya's next serve was flat again. Why wasn't he using the kick serve? They might win this with the kick serve. Was Tetsuya stupid? The ball landed clean and bounced up, offering Kurobane an easy forehand opportunity. He returned the ball to Tetsuya, who hit a drive on the outside, hoping to slip behind Kisaradu. _That was stupid, Tetsuya. You know how fast he is._

Kisaradu lunged, catching the ball and hitting cross-court again, to Hiro. It was like a practice exercise, rotating the ball around the court. Hirohito roared as he met the volley with a backhand swing, driving the ball hard into the forecourt opposite him. _Why the hell am I still swinging when I'm at the net?_

The ball cracked down and rebounded in a towering arc, far over Hirohito's head. But Kurobane was jumping again, jumping and spinning, like a dervish. His racket met the ball and smashed it back toward Tetsuya. Tetsuya who had the fastest reaction time of anyone on the team. Tetsuya who could reach anything. But Hiro's brother just let it sail by. The ball bounced at the baseline. In. "Advantage receiver."

Hirohito had to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to keep himself from yelling at his brother. Tetsuya should have had that ball. There was no excuse for missing it. Hirohito clenched his teeth, and shot his brother the iciest stare he could manage. Tetsuya met it with one of his own, full of burning anger. The two traded sides for the coming point.

Tetsuya's next serve was low across the net, it's path pulling to the right even before it bounced. Finally, the kick serve. Where had that been for the rest of this match? Kisaradu was waiting on the left hand side of the ball, and had to react quickly to catch the serve which was now flying up and to the right. Hirohito was impressed that he managed to get to the serve at all. The Rokkaku player's reaction time was as good as Tetsuya's, he admitted grudgingly. As good as Tetsuya's reaction time had been today, at least.

The ball sailed back to Tetsuya, who brought his racket away from his body in a horizontal arc to meet it. Opening the Fan, this time. The ball still had spin left on it from the kick serve, and Tetsuya's shot augmented that spin further. The ball bounced into Kisaradu's forecourt again, and bounced away to the right at an even steeper angle than the serve.

Kurobane was backing away from the net. Gaining the distance, the time, to read the Hida teams moves, probably. He saw the shot coming and moved to intercept it on the bounce. Kurobane aimed a smooth forehand at Hirohito.

Hiro felt like he had all the time in the world. He stepped back from the forecourt and met the ball with his own forehand slice, changing the direction of the spin. The ball sailed across the net and landed in the backcourt near Kisaradu, rising less than thirty centimeters on the bounce.

Kisaradu dipped his racket low. That "Sky-High Volley" of his. Hirohito smiled hungrily, moving back farther. Tetsuya responded by advancing to the net. Hiro was tired of that smug look on Kisaradu's face.

The ball arced high into the air, moving crosscourt into the space that had opened when Tetsuya moved forward. Hirohito dashed to the right, anticipating the ball, taking into account the topspin recurve while he considered where to meet it. He was in position well before the ball dropped, but instead of catching it with a tall overhead smash, he let it fall lower. Lower than a smash should allow. And then, dropping to his right knee, he whirled his racket over his head and met the ball at about head level.

Hirohito caught his descent on his left hand, waiting for the characteristic crack this shot made when it struck home. But the crack didn't come. Instead, the ball bounced softly. It sounded much closer than it should have. Hirohito looked up.

Tetsuya fell heavily to his knees, clutching his side. He bent double, and Hirohito thought he could hear the faint sound of sobbing. Blood drained from his face, and he felt the breath leave his body. He stumbled to his feet and hurried to his brother, dropping down beside him. Hirohito couldn't seem to breathe. "Tetsuya? Tetsu? Are you okay?" Hiro's voice was a hollow wheeze. The anger was gone. Everything was gone. Tetsuya.

"Get away from me!" Tetsuya screamed, shuffling away on his knees. "You aren't my brother! Get away from me, Hiro. I don't even know you anymore!" The sobs returned, shaking the small boy's body. Hiro could feel tears dripping down his own cheeks.

Even the chair umpire's voice was quiet. "Hida, do you need a medical break?"

Hirohito stood, his hand tightening on his racket. Air. He needed air. He felt weight pressing in on him from all sides, crushing him. "No," he said hoarsely. "No. Hida Doubles Two resigns."


End file.
